Voyeur Sex


Subject: Sissyboy Fashion (gay adult-youth) Sissyboy Fashion (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 fty. One � Catching up with Biff Biff Buggerall, CEO of the world industrial mega-power, Sissy Boy Enterprises, was having his usual good day. Biff awoke at 6:30 a.m. to the exquisite feeling of a lovely, naked boy’s wet, eager mouth sucking Biff’s corporate-mogul-sized cock. Sven, a blond, Swedish angel whose 9th birthday he and Biff would be celebrating in a month or two, was a skilled little fellatrix. Very skilled. And very much in love with Mr. Buggerall. And several other men and boys. As always, Biff’s talent scouts had brought him the cream of the boy’s cream in sissyboy “talent” for Biff’s pleasure and evaluation. Sven and Biff had been an item for almost a week. An eon by Biff’s standards. Biff was struck not only by Sven’s incredible beauty, but by the young boy’s amazingly-developed sexuality. Six months earlier, when Biff had decided to split his “Sissy Boy” magazine spinoff publication, “Sissy Boy Pre-Ten” into “Sissy Boy Nine” and “Sissy Boy Eight,” his staff told him it may not work. Just as they had when he founded the Sissy Boy World chain of sissyboy clothing, accessories and milking booths; Sissy Boy Cruises, where a man could meet new “boyfriends” for ferocious, week-long sex at a modest six-figure price; or when he took “Sissy Boy” from monthly to weekly. Biff was right. He was always right. No one ever went broke by overestimating men’s need for sissyboys. When “Sissy Boy Eight’s” first issue came out, Biff had barely done proper research on the subject. The youngest boy he had taken to his bed at that time had been eight years and ne months. So he started the magazine pictorials slowly. In most “Sissy Boy” family of magazines “spreads,” we are briefly introduced to the boy with his clothes on. Then he meets his lover � a man or an older boy. Boy and lover spunk all over each other. Reader spunks all over himself. Move on to the next story. “Sissy Boy Eight’s” approach was different. None of the boys could spunk, so that was out. Biff’s vision was to show the boys dressed more provocatively or “tastefully nude.” Early issues of “Sissy Boy Eight” would feature: A lovely redhead wearing a stiffie; black, seamed, reinforced-heel-and-toe, fully-fashioned stockings; and a ruffled, black garter belt. His two-inch pes is skinned and stiff and he’s saying, “This is what my Mom wears for my Daddy on his birthday and Father’s Day, Mister. How do I look in it?” A nude, gorgeous brunet lying on his back, holding his pulled-back foreskin to expose his red, needy knob is saying, “You were right, Mister. It feels really good to pull that skin up and down. Would you do it for me?” A nude, beautiful blondie sitting on the toilet, pes up, grunting out a “movement.” The caption: “All that creamy stuff you put in there is runng out of my poopie hole, Mister. Can we do it all again, now?” Another sublime blond is on his hands and knees, saliva-wet bumhole facing the “reader,” looking back at the reader with piercing blue eyes and saying, “Your tongue feels so good when you lick my naughty place, Mister. Do it some more, please.” A darker-skinned Hispac boy wearing only white panties is shown sitting on a man’s lap. The boy’s face is a picture of indecision. Should he surrender to the man whose hand has extracted his stiff little prick and is stroking its lovely knoblet? Or should he bolt and run, pantied, but chaste, to a police station? A lovely, heartbreakingly innocent eight-year-old blond beauty is on all fours, well-lubed bumhole pointed at the camera and with fearful tears in his eyes, asks the classic question, “Are you sure I won’t get pregnant, Mister?” And, a dark-eyed, black-haired beauty, nude, but for patent-leather, single-strap, Mary Jane shoes and turned-over, white, ankle socks with ruffled lace and satin bows, and on his back, asks, through a face mask of man’s cream, “I think you liked that, Mister. Could you lick MY boy’s things next?” “We want boys who are molestable” was Biff’s guidance to his staff at the first planng meeting. “There’s a whole audience out there who wouldn’t fuck a boy that young, but aches to molest him,” the bold entrepreneur said. “Men want a boy like that to sit on their laps. Then squirm and half-heartedly protest as the man steals kisses and feels the boy’s pretty things with his manly hands. Let me show you.” And with that, seven eight-year-old boy beauties were brought into the room with Biff and his six inner-circle members. The boys were all dressed in the kind of shorts none of the men, except Biff, had seen before: tight at the waist and across the bum � wide leg opengs that invited man-handling. They also wore loose, too-big t-shirts; black patent-leather, single-strap, Mary Jane shoes; and turned-over, white, ankle socks with ruffled lace and satin bows. Seven manly cocks sprang to life. One-by-one, each man coaxed a boy to sit on his lap. Seduction wasn’t as easy as it usually was for the Sissy Boy inner circle. The boys squirmed and resisted. Sort of. As the men “took liberties” gradually. Hands caressed bare thighs, then the rude hands slid up the wide leg opengs. Touching the boys’ most private parts in ways that made the young beauties blush and grunt. Oh! Were the little cherubs getting stiff? Yes they were. Some men also lifted the boy’s tshirts and played with their pples as they rubbed their little stiffies. One-by-one, the boys surrendered to each man’s attempts at kisses. Then to open-mouth kisses. And each boy fought at first when a man tried to insert a finger or two into his pretty hole, but s seven white flags were eventually raised. Since at Sissy Boy Enterprises staff meetings, no one wears pants, it was much easier to free men’s cocks for the boys to finally caress as the men kissed and otherwise molested them. The boys’ dry orgasms were inevitable and spectacular. As were the men’s creamy conclusions. When all 14 males had orgasmed at least once, two hours and 18 minutes after the boys had been brought forth, Biff made his big announcement. “We’re going into the fashion business, my friends. Our new line will be called `Triple M’ for `Molest Me, Mister.’ Daddies will buy it for their sissyboys who insist. Any boy who wears our fashions will be saying that he wants a man’s hand inside his panties. Rubbing his pretty things. Fingers slipping into his bumhole and molesting his prostate. We’re going to do our part for removing ambiguity between randy men and randier boys. Wearing our fashion line will say to men, `Molest me, Mister.'” The man had vision. Even when the rest of the world was near-sighted. Two � Fashion Show. Six months later, Biff’s vision was actualizing. His designers in Paris, New York and Milan were ready for the runway with a fabulous line of delightful, molestable clothing, from panties to complete outfits, and had recruited the models to show the new line to the world. At first, Biff would sell the Triple-M line at his Sissy Boy World stores. But he knew that the “better” stores, seeing the wildly profitable opportuties, would beg Biff for his goods. Biff knew that the way the models were received at the critical first show in New York was, well, critical. Biff told his model recruiters that he didn’t want the usual cock-hungry sissyboys for this assignment. He wanted boys who did NOT want to be around homosexuality in any form! Boys who were stunngly beautiful while stunngly committed to heterosexuality. That could mean younger boys � eight or ne. But Biff wanted spunkers too. Tens and elevens who were beautiful and virginal, if such creatures still roamed the earth. Biff wanted a boy like Brett Tightpants. Young Brett was from a good family who wanted to be a better family after an infusion of money from Biff Buggerall’s caverns of cash. Biff’s recruiter made the lovely ten-year-old’s parents an offer so amazing that they were willing � make that “eager” – to hand over their son to a notorious boy fucker’s notorious notoriety. The recruiter painted a picture of Brett being an international fashion model. But the seven-figure check that Mr. and Mrs. Tightpants cashed stil said “Sissy Boy Enterprises, Inc.” Suggesting strongly that the modeling would encompass only a portion of Brett’s duties. Brett was young, innocent, and fully virginal. But he wasn’t stupid. He knew what “Sissy Boy” magazine was. He had seen the ads on television. He knew that boys who “worked” for sissyboy were the kind of boys who let men do horrible, disgusting things to them. And the boys LOVED it! At least according to the ads. No way did Brett want any of that! Brett was a committed heterosexual. Lifelong. So far anyway. Ten years, three months, four days and counting on the day that Mom and Daddy took their 30 pieces of silver and shipped Brett off with that recruiter man. No one touched Brett “that way” all the way to New York. And when he got there, he was fed well, slept in a ce bed � alone! And was untouched by man. Everything seemed to be kosherly up and up. Even when “modeling traing” began. Brett took some comfort in the fact that Brett was one of ten boys being trained to model some new Sissy Boy Enterprises venture. Even Brett could see that they were all slim and very pretty. What was particularly hearteng to Brett was that there seemed to be no “Jimmy Fishinpants” among them. In Brett’s school Jimmy was the boy that all the male teachers were doing homo things with. Ick. The ne other models with Brett all seemed to be solid, hetero boys. Snatched, as was Brett, from their families by Buggerall money. Brett also noticed that he was probably the second or third oldest in the group. Which was also good. Not even Biff Buggerall would have the balls to FORCE eight-year-old boys to do sex things, Brett thought. So all was well. The boys were getting lessons in deportment, posture, walking, and audience awareness. When the endless trial-run fashion shows began, Brett learned what it was like to walk down a long runway to model clothing, then scurry back to the dressers for the next change. The clothes were very conservative. Brett enjoyed wearing them. And he enjoyed interacting with the practice audience of men and women enticed by free lunch and $25 to sit and watch boys model. Brett learned his new trade well. And the Sissy Boy Enterprises man in charge, Mr. Bossman, was generous with his praise. Though Brett wished that Mr. Bossman didn’t use the word “beautiful” when he described Brett. It made Brett uncomfortable. It was almost gay. And then there was that other problem. Sometimes, when Mr. Bossman talked about giresun escort Brett’s beauty, the boy got an erection. Which concerned Brett, because he wasn’t gay. Brett had to admit that Mr. Bossman was a very handsome, 30-something man. But Brett didn’t “like” men. Brett rationalized that, being newly cum-producing, many things would induce erections. Brett knew he was a cum producer because he had been having wet dreams since he came to live and work with Mr. Bossman and ne beautiful boys. Which was another coincidence. Of course, Brett made friends there, most notably eight-year-old Alex Pucker, who was assigned, with Brett, to room 269. The boys had an en suite bathroom, HDTV, and two queen beds so there would be no bed-sharing nonsense. Alex was blond, gorgeous, two years and one month younger than Brett and as weirded out as Brett was at the whole, potentially gay situation. Anticipation was high on the ght of the first real fashion show. Mr. Bossman gave them all a pep talk. Then he went out to warm up the crowd. Which the boys couldn’t hear. But let me give you the gist. Lovely, virginal boys will be showing our new “Molest Me, Mister” line. They’ve never worn these clothes before. They will be dazed. Feel free to cat call and make lewd comments and suggestions. It will greatly enhance the eveng’s fun. Backstage, the dressers unveiled the first costumes. Each boy was to wear a different colored “schoolboy” outfit of tiny, tight shorts with wide leg opengs; a buttoned blouse; patent-leather, single-strap, Mary Jane shoes, and turned-over, ankle socks with ruffled lace and satin bows. The least provocative outfit they would wear that eveng. Brett was to be first. He froze. He couldn’t wear that. It was complete sissyboy filth clothing! It invited molestation!! But somehow, Brett allowed himself to be dressed in an all-pink version of a sissyboy schoolboy’s “Molest Me, Mister” gear: shirt, shorts, socks and Mary Janes. And hustled to his place. Where he could hear Mr. Bossman introducing him. “…the lovely Brett.” The amazingly bright spotlight hit Brett and he wanted to puke. But his traing took over. He walked down the runway as he had been trained while Mr. Bossman said, “Brett is wearing our simple, but pretty, `Pink Schoolboy Sissy’ outfit. Note the wide leg opengs so that his teacher or some of the alpha boys in school can see what Brett is hiding in those short shorts and easily reach in to play with Brett’s pretty toys.” Brett couldn’t see the men in the audience, but he could hear them. Saying awful, lewd things about Brett! Oh no! They were throwing their hotel room keys at him!! It was disgusting! And his little cock had never been harder. A wag at the end of the runway noticed and yelled out, “This one loves what we’re saying. Look at his little stiffie!” Brett’s face was blood red with shame! How he managed to keep his composure and fish the prance was a testament to good traing and self-discipline. Thank goodness that was over. Whew! “Get moving, Brett,” Mr. Bossman said. “You need your next outfit on.” Oh no! How could Brett have thought it was over? He had more runs down that runway. With those savage men! He could do it, though. Just think of something else. Comradeship! That was the ticket! That was how men got through wars. He would bond with his friend Alex. Who was just coming off the runway wearing his all-lilac schoolboy outfit. And looking � flushed. Was Alex flushed from humiliation? Or [gasp] arousal? No way to find out now. Brett would go with humiliation. Brett had to get into his next outfit, which was a… Oh no! A dress!!!! He couldn’t wear a dress, but the dressers had stripped him nude except for his sissy shoes and socks and were pulling the dress over his head. It was just like the dress Alice wore in the Disney cartoon of “Alice in Wonderland.” Baby blue with a white-smock front. The dressers pronounced him ready and shoved him into the line. Brett sneaked looks at himself in the ubiquitous mirrors. It was a horribly humiliating outfit! Though Brett had to admit. He looked pretty in it. Which was terrible to admit. But terribly true. His colleague Toby was just fishing his run and Brett was next. That was when the horror of horrors slammed into Brett. He wasn’t wearing underpants! Not even girl’s panties, which would have been better than “pink and dangly.” He tried to get the attention of the dressers, but it was too late and Mr. Bossman was calling his name! Brett stepped onto the runway and the hoots stopped for a moment. The riff-raff audience was that taken by his beauty. Until Mr. Bossman said, “Brett wants to take you men to his Wonderland and he was so anxious to have you molest him that he isn’t wearing any panties!” Which quadrupled the catcalls and cries of, “Over here, Baby. I’ll make your pink things happy.” Brett’s face was fire-engine red. And he realized his dress was so short that many of the men in the audience, who were below the runway, could see his pes and testicles. Not to mention his bare bum. Oh the shame!! Muscle memory got him to the end of the runway where the filthy suggestions reached a crescendo. And his erection felt as if it would burst at any minute. Despite his fear and disgust, Brett was frightengly aroused. He felt so DESIRABLE. And do DESIRED. And then things got kicked up a notch. Unbeknownst to the models, a modification had been added to the end of the runway. Mr. Bossman signaled a techcian, who pushed a button. And a powerful stream of air pushed Brett’s skirts straight up! Exposing EVERYTHING to the randy audience. Everything. Brett screamed like a little girl whose nagging, mapulation and emasculation muscles weren’t working properly. And shot his spunk!!! In thick arcs. Onto the men in the front row of the end of the runway. Thereby effectively ending his life. At age ten. Because no truly hetero boy would shoot sperm from being naked in front of men. Woe was Brett. Except, no one came to chain him and take him to gay prison. The audience roared their approval. Stood. And applauded him. The techcian turned off the air. Brett covered his face in shame. And ran off the runway. He was sobbing pitifully as the dressers freed him of his dress and shoes. He was so upset that he hardly noticed his brief nudity. Though what followed nudity could be worse! And was! The dressers had Brett step into a pair of yellow panties that weighed about a quarter ounce. The front was a transparent pouch that barely held his “boy’s things.” The back was a wispy string that exposed 99.99% of his spectacular bum. He was NOT going out there wearing just that!!! The boy had some gumption left, after all. Thank goodness he could avoid that confrontation, because the dressers were sliding a “ght shirt” over his head. It was yellow and transparent, just like the panties. And they must have run out of material, because the hem only reached two inches below his belly button! Brett HATED it. Mostly. Until he looked at himself for 15 full seconds in the mirror. Which tented those wispy panties with a ce, full erection. Even the fiercely hetero Brett knew that he looked HOT! The dresser yanked Brett away from the mirror…again(!)…and stood him in line behind Toby, who was wearing only sissy shoes and socks. Toby stumbled and accidentally fell back against Brett. Toby grabbed Brett’s pes to steady himself, gave it a couple of ce rubs, then strode out on stage in just his footwear to loud hoots and catcalls. Brett was shocked at Toby’s brashness. And at how much he had enjoyed Toby’s “accidental” cock rubs. And then it was time for Brett to parade down the runway. Again, the men went silent when they saw Brett in all his sissy splendor. Thus cold comforting the suffering Brett with the knowledge that he was the “prettiest” or the “girliest” or the “sissiest” of the ten models. The spell was broken when someone yelled out, “That one’s stiff again. Get your raincoats out for the spermstorm!” Humiliated, but proud, Brett strode with confidence. Barefoot. Wearing disgusting, homo “sex clothing.” Until the “patrons” started throwing $100 bills at him! Brett had never touched a $100 bill, let alone owned one. So he did what any boy would have done. In a manner any boy would have done it. He bent over. At the waist. To pick up as many as the $100 bills as he could. The “at the waist” part was the bad part. Because it gave a large part of the audience a clear view of, not only his delicious ass, but his magficent asshole!! Brett realized his mistake after he had gathered $1,100 and engendered a volcac eruption of vile sex-taunting. Racked with shame and self-loathing, Brett stood, looked around at his tormentors, and began to cry. And spunk. A rare combination indeed. But one that nearly blew the roof off the display hall. Again, Brett ran off the runway to a standing ovation. And was at least infitesimally relieved that he had no more costume changes or runway runs. As the other ne boys fished their runs, Brett sobbed and plotted his escape. He could go to Canada and become a lumberjack. Lumberjacks were never “homos,” right? OK. He would change his name to “Pierre,” wear a flannel shirt, and sing “Allouette,” as he felled big Canadian pines. Perfect. Just as soon as several of the boys, dressers and Mr. Bossman stopped congratulating Brett on his stealing the show. “You were great, Brett,” Brett’s little friend Alex said, just before he went out for hi last run of the show. Brett brightened a bit, because he knew that eight-year-old Alex was for sure the only other heterosexual in the room. “Yeah, Brett,” you were great,” ne-year-old Toby said as he rubbed Brett’s left bum cheek collegially. Flushed as he was from humiliation, Brett felt some pride as well for a difficult job done well. Brett was so keyed up that he barely heard the ovation Alex got. What had the eight-year-old beauty worn? Brett was so caught up in himself that he hadn’t noticed. Three � After the Show for Brett Mr. Bossman was smiling as the boys and dressers congratulated Brett. When they were through, he took Brett aside and said, “You set a new high standard today, Brett. No one has ever aroused a crowd of fashion experts like that before. You just made Biff Buggerall another billion and I’ll make sure he knows it.” Brett smiled despite himself. Maybe, since Mr. Buggerall had just made another billion bucks, he wouldn’t need Brett’s services any more. Brett could just go home. Put this all behind him. Wait five or six years to kiss his first girlfriend, two more to get her bra off, then another 18 months to remove her panties. That sounded perfect to Brett. So Brett wouldn’t need to learn all the verses in gölbaşı escort French to Allouette (eh les yeux, et les yeux… Oh! Allouette…) And no itchy, flannel shirts. Does that sound plausible? You’re right. No way. Mr. Bossman had more to say. “Your modeling really impressed Mr. Oleg Spermi, the great Italian designer, Brett. He was hoping to have a word or two with you about your modeling career.” Brett was flattered. And impressed. Though only ten years old, Brett had heard of Oleg Spermi. He was really famous. And Brett impressed him. Brett figured he could “have a word or two with him” just as soon as he changed clothes. “I can do that, Mr. Bossman,” Brett said. “Just let me change my clothes and…” “There’s no time, Honey,” Mr. Bossman said. “Mr. Spermi is a very busy man. He’s on his way to Milan toght. He’s already seen you in that, so just come with me.” Even a ten-year-old has a “better judgment” meter and the Brett’s needle was fluctuating wildly on that one. But gosh, a famous guy liked Brett. So he guessed he could talk to him wearing only wispy, yellow panties; a cum-stained, nearly invisible yellow ghtie; and bare feet. The “better judgment meter” was strained again when Mr. Bossman led Brett into a small room with just one big, easy chair. Mr. Spermi was sitting in it. Looking very important. And very handsome! And, something else � Mr. Spermi seemed very stricken, perhaps smitten by Brett. Over the past year, Brett had been getting looks like that from men. He didn’t like getting those looks. Though he guessed that it was flattering and all that. But his instinct was to move away from men giving him such looks. So Brett surprised himself by entering the room instead of runng away. Mr. Spermi was charming. “Young Brett. I see models every day. All over the world. Girl models. Boy models. But none so beautiful as you.” Oh my gosh, Brett thought. That was an amazing compliment! Maybe Brett WAS amazingly beautiful. And all those men who acted silly around him were just doing what their instincts told them to do. Maybe Brett was being selfish by not letting men gaze at him for a while, drinking in his exceptional beauty. Brett closed the distance between him and Mr. Spermi to about two feet. He said, “Thank you, sir,” and gave Mr. Spermi a full red blush. Brett didn’t really notice that Mr. Spermi’s compliment had raised Brett’s cock to half-staff. But Mr. Spermi did. “I’m sorry that this room only has one chair, my darling,” the Continental Charmer said, “Why don’t you sit on my lap while we discuss your beauty?” HOMO ALERT! HOMO ALERT! The alarm bells went off in Brett’s head. But they were muted by Brett’s need to get more compliments from this important personage. So the fly entered the spider’s web most willingly. As they always do. Brett felt comfortable on Mr. Spermi’s lap. He had enjoyed sitting like that with Daddy, before Daddy sold Brett down river for a few measly millions. But Daddy had never discussed the fine points of Brett’s beauty the way Mr. Spermi was doing. “Those eyes that pierce a man’s soul” was an old one, but Brett had never heard it before. Same with “Lips meant to draw a man’s breath from his inner self.” Then: “I didn’t get to see your pples sweetheart. May I just get a peek?” That sounded a little intimate, but pples were no big deal for a boy, right? Plus, boys showed their pples on the beach. So ever so shyly, Brett lifted his ghtie to allow Mr. Spermi full access to Brett’s pples. Mr. Spermi gasped. And, with Italian emotionalism and his native language, he rattled off a stream of hosannas to Brett’s pples. Realizing he was speaking Italian, Mr. Spermi said, in English, “I’m sorry, Honey. It’s just that your pples prove to me that perfection is possible in this world. May I touch them?” Brett blushed again. Then nodded his head shyly. Touching his pples wasn’t homo or anything because pples were no big d…” Brett squealed most unmanfully. Apparently, a boy’s pples, in the right hands, were a big deal. A very big deal! Oh! Mr. Spermi was rubbing Brett’s right pple with just the pad of his left forefinger. And Brett felt as if he were about to leave the planet. Seeing the reaction, Mr. Spermi took an unapproved liberty. He kissed Brett’s left pple. Then he licked it most sensuously. Brett didn’t want that. Did he? He wanted to tell the man to stop. But it felt so good. And where was the man’s right hand? It was gently rubbing the front of Brett’s panties as the man licked and sucked the boy’s left pple. Brett wiggled. And wriggled. As if to get away. Though not firmly enough to dislodge Mr. Spermi’s mouth from Brett’s pple. And then Brett spunked. For the third time that ght. And quite fiercely. Oh! The shame! The guilt! Brett knew he could have stopped Mr. Spermi from molesting him. The man was no crazy boy-rapist. All Brett would have had to do would be to form and utter the word, “No!” But Brett allowed himself to be molested. For a cheap physical thrill that was over in less than a minute. As well as admiration and praise, lest we forget, that would last considerably longer. It wasn’t worth it. Brett knew that. So he was going to stand up, give that Mr. Spermi person a big, loud “No!!!” and get on with the rest of his hetero life. Which he planned to do right after Mr. Spermi’s lips left Brett’s. The man was KISSING Brett! Right on the mouth. Thank goodness it was closed mouth! Oh no! Mr. Spermi was trying to put his tongue into Brett’s mouth. And succeeding!! Had Brett gone crazy? He was letting Mr. Spermi, also known as “a man,” lick his tongue and the inside of his mouth! Just as Mr. Spermi had licked Brett’s pples. Just because the man was so handsome. And complimentary of Brett. And because it felt so good. And Brett was licking back. Was Brett a homo now? NO!! This was only happeng because of all the hormonally psycho things that had happened to Brett over the past hour. Brett would be going home soon. Retired by Mr. Buggerall in gratitude for Brett making him another billion dollars and that would be that. Though the kissing wasn’t half as bad as Brett had anticipated. It was almost tolerable. Though Brett’s pes disagreed. That part of Brett was standing tall again and his little peanuts were all achy. Maybe because the man had found its way past Brett’s meager panty defenses and was cuddling Brett’s testicles as he kissed him. It was so darned exciting that Brett forgot to be disgusted. Oh! The man was kissing Brett even more deeply and (OMG) was working Brett’s foreskin up and down. All the air had left the room. Brett was gasping and squealing and whimpering as he endured an all-out homosexual assault on his virginal precincts. With a loud cry, he HEAVED out what had to be the last of his sperm and semen for that lovely day. Pleasing the man greatly. And pleasing Brett more than Guilt and Shame could ever displease him. When Brett regained his wits, he wondered if he needed to “do something” for the man. Though none of the options seemed appealing, now that his own balls were empty. Mr. Spermi solved that dilemma for Brett. The mam eased Brett off his lap, kissed him one more time and said, “Thank you for that wonderful treat, my darling. I must be off to Milan now, but you and your troupe will be there next week. I hope to see you then.” And he was gone. Slam. Bam. Thank you, young man. Leaving Brett with totally confused feelings. He had just been molested. By a man. Brett didn’t want to be molested. By anyone. He hated the idea of a rude, unvited hand handling his handleables. But in practice, Brett had found it enjoyable. MOST enjoyable. And now his molester was gone. Before Brett had even had the opportuty to tell Mr. Spermi that Brett was NOT molesting him back. Which left Brett a bit unfulfilled. A strange feeling for someone who had spunked four times in the past hour. Four � After the show for Alex Sweet, innocent, eight-year-old Alex Pucker wasn’t expecting the reception that those horrible men gave him on his third trip down the runway. Brett had stolen the show, whether he had wanted to or not. And Alex didn’t think that those disgusting fools would even look at him. Which was OK with Alex. Mostly. Alex defitely thought he was as pretty as his friend and roommate Brett. And certainly as sweet and innocent. Maybe Brett was wearing things that were more “pedo-friendly.” But Alex thought that his third outfit was disgustingly depraved enough to arouse even the thuggiest thug in the audience. The lovely youth was wearing a white, button-up-the-front ghtshirt. So short that his baby balls dangled saucily beneath the hem and his tiny prick could be glimpsed pointing northward. As an accessory, the little angel was carrying a rag bunny. His legs and feet were bare. His beautiful face showed equal measures of terror and sexual arousal. Perfect. The feral audience was not so jaded by the endless parade of puerile pulchritude which they had witnessed that they failed to appreciate Alex’s intense, untentional sexiness. Maybe it was the bunny that set the crowd off. Or maybe that it was the realization that Alex was the eveng’s last visual confection. But they cheered Alex as lustily as they had cheered Brett. Which stirred Alex to do what he never thought he would do. He cockteased. Alex was new at it. He wasn’t skilled at it yet. But he was good enough. First, he tried to cover his pes and testicles with his right hand as his left hand clutched “Rags the Bunny.” Protecting both his boy’s things and his bunny from the vile mob. That drew a whoop from the crowd. Alex liked being able to control the crowd. Then Alex sissied right over to where he had seen the air duct lift Brett’s Alice in Wonderland dress. And managed to look shocked and vulnerable when the hard draft showed the crowd almost all his pretties. The crowd noted that shy boy was also a fully erect and aroused boy. And whooped. There wasn’t much to Alex’s cock and balls. But what was there was choice. One pretty remained to be revealed. Alex solved that by dropping his bunny. Ostensibly from the big draft. But actually, Brett dropped it on purpose. So he could bend at the waist and “show pink” to the raucous group of fashiosta boy molesters. It took Alex far too long to locate and secure Mr. Rabbit. During which time, many disgusting perverts saw the boy’s delicious wrinkle. And drooled at the thought of licking it until the boy screamed in erotic agony. After Alex stood up, he mostly just walked back and forth as a model does. And drank in the praise. Until the $100 bills started sailing his way. He had to pick those up, didn’t he? And it takes at least two minutes to bend göztepe escort at the waist, pick up 24 bills and show one hundred pervs your bumhole as you turn 360. There was a near riot out there. But Alex managed to get backstage quickly. Where he joined the crowd congratulating his friend Brett. And waited to see the result of his own cockteasing. It arrived soon. Moments after Mr. Bossman set up Brett with Mr. Spermi, Mr. Bossman spoke on his phone, then said to Alex, “A very important buyer of boys’ fashions would love to meet you, Alex. You were fabulous out there and he would like to congratulate you. Well. Alex was only eight. And innocent. But he wasn’t born in a briar patch and didn’t fall off a turp truck. The man wanted to molest Alex. And Alex was so excited that he could use a little molestation right about then. Mr. Bossman led Alex to a private room, where he met “Mr. Smith,” a powerful-looking man in his late thirties who smiled begnly at Alex. As Mr. Bossman left them, Mr. Smith was effusive in his praise of Alex’s beauty and his showmanship. Alex blushed. And trembled a bit at the thought of the vile, unknown acts of molestation to which he would be FORCED to submit. Mr. Smith tried the direct approach, though the truth of his statements cannot be verified by this reporter. “All my life I hoped to meet a boy as beautiful as you. Someone I could hold in my arms and protect. Someone who would allow me certain `favors’ out of love and admiration, not fear. May I just hold you in my arms as you sit on my lap? Please?” That sounded OK to Alex. He eased himself onto Mr. Smith’s muscular thighs. He was so manly. How could Alex deny him? Mr. Smith practically purred with contentment as he held the boy and Rags Rabbit in his gentle embrace. Alex purred too. He loved the physical contact. But he also enjoyed the adoration. Mr. Smith didn’t rush things. It took him eight minutes before he kissed Alex. Two more to slide his tongue into Alex’s mouth. Things began to heat up at that point. One minute later, Mr. Smith had his hand between Alex’s thighs as they kissed. Then the man lifted Alex’s ghtshirt and took it off. With the newly-naked boy’s full cooperation. At this point, it’s safe to say that the molestation ended and the lovemaking began. The immoral predator’s heart skipped several beats when he saw Alex in all his youthful, naked beauty. Alex’s entire body was blushing. And his little prick could have cut diamonds. The man ran his rough hands up the sides of Alex’s creamy, virginal body. Gently. Drawing a deep sigh and a whimper of submission from Alex. The man had Alex stand as Mr. Smith leaned forward in the chair � within kissing range. Had the man stood, he would have towered over the babydoll. Couldn’t have kissed his neck where it joined his shoulders. Couldn’t have venerated the sissyboy’s pples. Oh those pples. Mr. Smith tongued Alex’s belly button only briefly. The boy was too ticklish. And giggles would have ruined the sex mood. Alex never expected things to get as far as they had. So imagine his amazed confusion when Mr. Smith began to lick Alex’s stiffie! Taking a detour now and then to lick each of the boy’s baby balls. Alex sobbed. It was that good. We can only begin to imagine how Alex felt when Mr. Smith swallowed Alex’s prick as he entered the boy’s anus with one insolent finger. Alex screamed! But was careful not to dislodge Mr. Smith from either of his delicious tasks. So this was sex! With men! Where had this been all Alex’s life? But before the young beauty could despair for any lost sex time, he had to deal with an unprecedented present. Something very strange was happeng throughout Alex’s “middle ground.” He was building toward something he hadn’t built before. Something big. And powerful. Mr. Smith’s finger, which had been roaming the “foyer” of Alex’s bumhole, decided to head for the master bedroom. Mr. Smith found Alex’s prostate. And gave it a ce, loving rub-up. As he sucked Alex’s quivering prick. Goodbye yellow brick road. I’ll be seeing you. I’m leaving on a jet plane. Alex orgasmed. No spunk. But lots of orgasm anyway. Spasms. Near-death feelings. Joy. Erotic pain. The best fucking feeling of Alex’s whole fucking life! Thank you, Mr. Smith! Five – After the after the show for Brett and Alex. Brett and Alex were returned to the hotel room they shared in reasonably mint condition. Neither had been fucked. Though Alex got onto his back and lifted his knees after Mr. Smith gave him that third orgasm. Under strict agreement with Sissy Boy Enterprises, neither Mr. Spermi nor Mr. Smith was allowed to fuck either boy that ght. Though their balls ached for it. Being a bit randier than his two-year-older roommate, Alex willingly gave Mr. Smith the best blowjob he could muster. And swallowed almost half of the man’s creamy discharge. Mr. Smith SWORE he would see Alex again. After the third fashion show, whatever that meant. And SWORE that he would fuck Alex then. Which had to be good enough, Alex guessed. When he and Brett got to their room, each looked a bit “used.” Realizing that deal of homosexual activities wasn’t going to work with Alex, Brett confessed how he had submitted to Mr. Spermi. Alex topped that with his tale of submission and restitution, to include a cum-swallowing blowjob. Brett was stunned. And jealous. And angry at Mr. Spermi for having to molest and run. And interested in “catching up” where he had fallen behind Alex. Because Brett had accepted the truth. He LIKED being the object of men’s lust. He LIKED showing off his body to men. And he LOVED being molested by a handsome manly man. He also LIKED what he saw in Alex, who had removed his ghtshirt and was stroking his little cock for Brett’s amusement. “We don’t have modeling practice until noon tomorrow,” the little horndog said. “And we can order room-service breakfast whenever we get out of bed.” Notice Alex didn’t say, “when we wake up.” Brett removed his ghtshirt as well and said, “That sounds great, Alex. But we can’t get out of bed until we get into it.” Alex giggled. The naked beauties fell into each other’s arms and consumed each other with kisses and cock-to-cock rubs. Brett delighted Alex when, after six delicious minutes of that, he shot his boy’s cream all over Alex’s privates. Alex rubbed Brett’s cum all over his pes and balls until he had his own dry cum. Mmmm. And life as a Triple-M model was just beginng. NOTE: I think this is the first story I ever wrote where someone didn’t get fucked. Hope you think there’s enough eroticism to cover that. I welcome your comments at [email protected] hoo. Other stories on fty: “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 “Sissyboy Stepson” (gay adult-youth) July 30, 2008 “Sissyboy Showoff” (gay adult-youth) August 14, 2008 “Sissyboy Sleepover” (gay incest) August 26, 2008 “Cockteaser’s Comeuppance” (gay adult-youth) September 5, 2008 “Schoolboy Pleasures” (gay adult-youth) October 23, 2008 “Home-Schooled Sissyboys” (gay incest) October 25, 2008 “Sissyboy-Daddy Reuon” (gay incest) November 24, 2008 “Sissyboy Shooting Lessons (gay adult youth) December 4, 2008 “Stepson Seduction” (gay incest) December 13, 2008 “The New Sissyboy” (gay incest) December 22, 2008 “Sissyboy Hangout” (gay incest) February 13, 2009 “The Little Prickpleaser” (gay incest) February 20, 2009 “Twelve” (gay incest) March 10, 2009 “Sissyboy Facts of Life” (gay incest) March 11. 2009 “Lord Upcock’s Darlings” (gay adult-youth) March 12, 2009 “Sissyboy Spunk Party” (gay adult-youth) March 20, 2009 “Corporate Cockpleasers” (gay adult-youth) April 1, 2009 “Sissyboy Nephews” (gay incest) May 5, 2009 “Sissyboy Pediatrics” (gay adult-youth) May 14, 2009 “Next-Door Sissyboy” (gay incest) May 19, 2009 “Sissyboy Sanctuary” (gay adult-youth) May 20, 2009 “Model Sissyboy” (gay adult-youth) November 5, 2009 “Sissyboy Restitution” (gay adult-youth) January 27, 2010 “Sissyboy Spinoffs” (gay adult-youth) January 28, 2010 “Sissyboy Wives” (gay adult-youth) February 3, 2010 “Secret Sissyboys” (gay adult-youth) April 8, 2010 “Sissyboy School Spirit” (gay adult-youth) May 5,2010 “Try Men” (gay adult-youth) June 21, 2010 “Teaching Sissyboys” (gay adult-youth) July 26, 2010 “Sissyboy Princesses” (gay adult-youth) September 11, 2010 “Sissyboy Swap” (gay adult-youth) December 26, 2010 “Sissyboy Psychology” (gay adult-youth) January 12, 2011 “Sissyboy Island” (gay adult-youth) January 28, 2011 “Sissyboy Prom Night” (gay incest) February 8, 2011 “Sissyboy Workout” (gay adult-youth) February 12, 2011 “Naughty Sissyboys” (gay adult-youth) February 19, 2011 “Society Sissyboys” (gay adult-youth) February 28, 2011 “Sissyboy Sodomy” (gay adult-youth) March 22, 2011 “Sissyboy Stripoff” (gay adult-youth) April 5, 2011 “The Sissyboy and the Ruffboy” (gay adult-youth) April 5, 2011 “Sissyboy Superiority” (gay adult-youth) May 26, 2011 “Sissyboy Sex Education” (gay adult-youth) August 6, 2011 “Sissyboy Justice”(gay adult-youth) August 16, 2011 “Sissyboy Summer”(gay adult-youth) August 23, 2011 “Sissyboy Dreamer” (gay adult-youth) September 8, 2011 “Try Boys” (gay adult-youth) September 12, 2011 “Sissyboy Scenes” (gay adult-youth) September 19, 2011 “Sissyboy Matchup” (gay adult-youth) January 11, 2012 “Sissyboy Fixup”(gay adult-youth) January 18, 2012 “Sissyboy Adultery”(gay adult-youth) February 12, 2012 “Sissyboys in Love”(gay adult-youth) February 20, 2012 “Sissyboy Lust” (gay adult-youth) March 24, 2012 “Sissyboy Siblings” (gay adult-youth) March 27, 2012 “Sissyboy Test” (gay adult-youth) April 24, 2012 “Sissyboy Culture Shock” (gay adult-youth) May 24, 2012 “Sissyboy Honeymoon” (gay adult-youth) June 27, 2012 “Sissyboy Discipline” (gay adult-youth) June 29, 2012 “Sissyboy Physical Education” (gay adult-youth) October 4, 2012 “Sissyboy Humiliation” (gay adult-youth) January 23, 2013 “Sissyboys Caught Kissing” (gay adult-youth) April 11, 2013 “Molested Sissyboys” (gay adult-youth) May 3, 2013 “Constitutional Sissyboys” (gay adult-youth) May 23, 2013 “Sissyboy Stepmother” (gay adult-youth) February 19, 2014 “Sissyboy Beauty” (gay adult-youth) March 13, 2014 “Sissyboy Playdate” (gay adult-youth) September 16, 2014 “Sissyboy Empathy” (gay-adult-youth) October 7, 2014 “Virtual Sissyboys” (gay-adult-youth) April 2, 2015 “Sissyboy Panty Party” (gay-adult-youth) April 16, 2015 “Sissyboy Conversion Therapy” (gay-adult-youth) May 20, 2015 “Sissyboy Transition” (gay-adult-youth) June 3, 2015 “Sissyboy Spunk-up” (gay-adult-youth) June 26, 2015 “Sissyboy Satisfaction” (gay-adult-youth) July 8, 2015 “Sissyboy Apprentice” (gay-adult-youth) July 22, 2015

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