Date: Mon, 14 May 2007 14:27:11 +0100 From: tina foster Subject: 'The Proposal' Teen, TV, dom I'd met him at the station, as I'd been hurrying from the mainline platform to the underground. "Can you spare change for a cup of tea?" The youth sitting with his back to the tiled wall had begged. I'd stopped and stared. Amongst that milling crowd, those eyes had held me: those wide, innocent looking eyes. "You're staring mister!" He had snapped. "Can you spare any change, or are you just taking the piss?" I'd offered him two pound for tea and forty pence for the phone. "Here," I'd told him. "If you want to earn some proper money, just phone..." And, I'd handed him my business card, with my home number on it, and then walked away, smiling. I'd figured, rightfully as it turned out that I'd hear from him. Then, last night he'd phoned. "What do I need to do to earn this money?" "Just pose for some photographs for my private collection; however I want you to dress; in whatever position I ask of you. And I'll pay you one hundred pounds an hour." "Pardon?" He'd asked, in a quiet voice. So, I'd repeated myself. There's been a long silence, in which he must have thought long and hard about my proposition. "Okay," he'd answered finally, "I'll do it. I need the money." `A-ha,' I'd thought, `your loss is my gain.' And, he's due here, soon. The front room is ready -- it's to be the `studio', where he'll pose for me, in pictures I'm sure my friends will like. After all, they share their results with me: it'll be good to return the favour. And there's the doorbell... I walk down the short hall, to the front door, already very excited. I'd had it in mind that he wouldn't show, as he'd sounded so hesitant on the phone. But then, he'd said he needed the money. "Who is it?" I called out. "It's James, you met me on the station," he answered. I smiled as I opened the door: and he looked just as I recalled; slight of build, dark hair, with wide guileless eyes. Perfect. "Come in," I told him, standing aside, so he has to walk close by me -- very close, noting his unease, with pleasure. He turned to me, as I closed the door. "When do I get paid?" He asked. "When you've earned it my young friend," I assured him in a serious tone of voice, slowly looking him up and down. To judge by his slim build, he'd easily fit into the stuff I'd chosen for him to wear. "Do you want a drink?" I quizzed. "What have you got?" He responded, as he followed me through to the kitchen. "Whiskey, vodka, wine, red or white?" "Er.. vodka." "Sure," I reply, "with coke, or straight up?" "And coke, please?" "Sure, okay," I answered him, then said, "you go through to the back room. We'll have our drinks there." Followed my gesture he goes into the back room, as I pour myself a straight whiskey; and for him, a treble vodka and coke. Then I took the drinks through to the back room, where he sits on the sofa, opposite the plasma t.v., obviously still nervous. I sip at my drink, passing him as I do. "Get that down you," I tell him, sitting in the armchair next to the t.v., so I can look at him, as his soft-blue, oh-so appealing eyes are held by the images on the screen and the film I'd left on, to gauge his interest: in it, two men are rough-housing a blonde haired teen, who looks like a slightly older James. One has already undressed him; the other is now holding him by the head, pulling him to the bulge in his jeans. My guest seems entranced, chugging down his drink, entranced, wide-eyed. "Are they really hurting him?" He asks breathlessly. And, I can't help but smile -- this is so much better than I'd hoped. "Not yet," I told him. "But they will," I added, noting the fixed expression he wears, as he stares intently at the screen. "Will you..?" This question lies unspoken. But, I can hear his interest. "Perhaps I might..." I tell James suggestively, "If you're good, at being bad, for me." "Can I have another?" He asked, looking at me. "Sure," I answered, standing and taking his glass from him. And, when I return to the room, with another drink for him, it's plain by the bulge in his jeans that he's aroused, by what he's watching. On the screen the young blonde has been shoved onto his back, his knees pushed towards his chest; one man over him, his cock embedded deep in his boy-cunt, as the other man straddles his neck and face fucks him. "Here," I say, offering him his second drink and sitting to his left on the sofa, with my own desires growing by the second. I want him. "You're so pretty," I say to him, stroking his face and adding, "You're going to d, look so-nice in what you'll wear, for me..." "And, will you?..." Again, he needs to ask to ask what he wants of this moment and me. But, he's apprehensive -- and it shows. He shrinks back just a little, as I lean in toward him, taking his face in my hands: and I kiss him. And I feel him tense, as I open his lips with my tongue, my right hand directly on the bulge in his jeans. He opened his mouth, with flickering eyes, as we touched tongues lightly and continued kissing, as I held him tightly. Reaching up with my left hand, I caressed his cheek and we kissed, as I continued to stroke his cock with my right. He wanted it and I knew it. Sitting back, I pushed young James to the carpet, where he sprawled there, shocked. "What?" He exclaimed. "It's time for you to get ready," I told him, as I sit forward a little my hands on my knees. "Get up," I snapped. He does as told, to stand before me, shaking. "Go in the front room," I instruct, "you'll find some pretty things on the table to that I want you to wear." He leaves the room, pausing in the doorway, to look back at me a moment before walking out of the room. It's obvious he has doubts, but the money and lust override these and leaves, his lower lip trembling sweetly, as a single tear trickles down his face. On his return I smile as he stands before me, trembling a little, my little pretty sissy boy, ready to pose for me, dressed in a pink shortie nighty, self-support black fine stockings and black panties. He has applied the lipstick carefully and it looks good on his quivering lips. I rise, towering over the teen and take from my pocket the last article he is to wear for me: a two-inch wide, dark brown studded dog-collar. "Now you're ready," I tell the youth, pleased with obedience to all I have asked of him, so far. I grasp hold of the collar and pull him with me, as I walk back into the front room and then I stand there before him, my hands on his shoulders as I stare down at him, as he looks to his stocking-clad feet. The curtains are closed and the room is lit by two standard lamps and this moment is mine. Lifting his chin, so that he looks up, I lean down and enter his mouth with my eager tongue once more, seeking to possess him, as I glide my right and up his nylon-clad left leg, toward the bare flesh above; and he moans softly against my lips. And I stand back -- to look at him, my lovely sissy boy, ready to pose. "Now stand still while I get my camera," I tell the teen. Retrieving my Fujitsu digital camera from the sideboard, I look to the clock and realise that I only have a half hour left, or my pleasure will cost more than I'd expected. "Now, dance for me," I direct, turning on the stereo and as the sound of Dire Straights fills the room, he begins to sway: and I take picture after picture. Yet, I'm aware of the time moving on. So placing the camera down on the table; and picking up a tube of K.Y. I walk toward him and slide my right hand fingers beneath the collar and lead the youths across the room to an armchair by the window. "Sit down I tell him," kneeling before him and parting his legs. He watches me mesmerized, as I slide the nightie's hem slowly up his legs, to reveal his small erection bulging tenting out the front of the black nylon panties. I ease over his taut buttocks; them down his legs and then lean forward to engulf his small cock in my mouth. He grips my shoulders, closing his eyes, moaning with pleasure as I swirl my tongue round his cockhead, then begin a slow sucking action, causing him to writhe beneath me. As I please him, I undo my belt and the button on my trousers. Then I stand, leaving him panting wide-eyed, as I finish undressing. I smear my cock with the lube, and then insert two fingers into him, opening his hole, ready for my use. "Please..?" He pleads. A question of need, or something else. I don't care -- I want him. Grasping his ankles I push his knees toward his shoulders, as I lie down on him, holding my hard erect eight inches against his tight puckered asshole. His little cock is pressed against my belly, as I use my right hand to ease myself into him, my left behind his head pulling his face to me. As his asshole widens to accommodate me, I kiss him, holding him tight as I begin to thrust back and forth. "Please.. please.." he keeps saying, perhaps in encouragement. But, his needs aren't important to me, mine are. Then supporting my weight on my arms, I look down at the young teen, lipstick smeared across his mouth, dressed as my own sissy-slut. He wraps his legs round my thighs, as he shows his pushes toward me, as I fuck him. And, his head turns from side to side, as wraps his arms round my neck, pulling me toward him, until finally I can feel the tremor in my thighs announcing my oncoming climax. I push deep, as he kisses me fervently, his own need to climax obvious. Yet, as I pump my seed deep inside him, his releases his own creamy load over his belly groaning loudly in ecstasy, as I ease out of his tight embrace. And, I stand looking down at him, lying there, legs splayed open, my cum trickling out of his distended anus and I look at the clock. "Fifty minutes, James.." I tell him smiling. "Now for the next ten minutes, you can finger your cunt while I take a few more pics, okay?" He looks at me, with a lack of comprehension on his face. "Just wank your hole.." I explain. The teen does as he's told, as I get my camera and begin to take the pictures I want, as James slides one, two and then three fingers into himself, a glazed look on his face. He is such a good sissy for me. "Well, you've earned you money now," I assure him, with a smile.