Date: Mon, 23 Aug 2010 18:16:09 -0400
From: Jason <sterling.jason (at) gmail (dot) com>
Subject: Scot's Seduction Chapter 5

Scot's Seduction

Part 5 of 7


By Jason Sterling



When I first took on the job of seeing to Scot's
introduction to real-world life I was hesitant to
expose him to some of my own proclivities, mostly
those things that would be considered far-out or
downright kinky.  After a few days together I found
him to be much more attuned to sexual matters than
I was at his age, so I stopped trying to shield him
from experiences that could be, in some circles,
considered harmful to his growth into manhood.


What gave me the freedom to be more open with him
was a talk we had about his familiarity with such
things as boy to boy sexual contact.  He divulged,
with no hint of embarrassment, that when he was
fourteen and on an overnight encampment with the
scout troop he was in, they had a 'circle jerk' that
opened his eyes fully to the fact that the sight of
other naked boys openly jacking themselves off was a
turn on to him.  Sucking dick in the privacy of a
two-man tent afterwards by some of the older scouts
was a lesson in understanding more about the
diversity of relationships, be they boy/girl or
boy/boy or even girl/girl for that matter!  Then he
asked me a question that I still have trouble
finding a definitive answer for, "Why is the sight
of two good looking babes making out together such a
boner inducing action?"  I took an easy way out of
that conundrum by telling him that when he finds the
root answer to that question to get ahold of me
first and share this wisdom.


I probed this kid's inner awareness of himself and
the strange things other people do by asking him how
he feels when he is at the Y pool and showing off
his physique to the other male swimmers.  "I'm kind
of proud of my body and spend a lot of time trying
to get into shape so I look good.  So many of those
other 'schmucks' with big, fat potbellies or skinny
undeveloped arms and legs just make me puke.  I may
not be the smartest kid around, or the most popular,
but building up my body gives me a goal to aim for.
Who knows?  Perhaps I could make a good living as a
gigolo and eventually marry some rich bitch and be
set for life."  When I popped his bubble and said
that there were not that many "rich bitches" in the
pool at the Y, he responded, "Who gives a shit if
they got a cunt or a set of balls between their
legs.  What you fuck at home at night is not the
most important factor.  I've learned to keep all
my options open."  This kid was a lot older than the
tender age he displayed on his driver's license.


Quite a bit less troubled by what Scot picks up by
being around my own perverted life, I made no
specific plans to ditch him for my usual Friday
evening activity.  I have been hosting a special
friend of mine on an almost weekly basis for some
time now.  This friend was a high level manager at
the company I worked for who had an extremely taxing
and emotionally stressful job dealing with all sorts
of personnel problems all week long.  He was
primarily straight in his orientation and a devoted
family man who needed an outlet for his frustrations
that he encountered on the job.  I got to know him
before he moved up the corporate ladder and since
our jobs rarely put us together in the same arena we
find no ethical dilemmas involved in continuing our
friendship.


I prepared Scot by only saying that I was expecting
a visitor around six that evening and when he showed
up we would take off and leave him alone for several
hours, go out to dinner and when we got back home
I'd go through a weekly routine with the visitor and
for Scot to be not shocked by what he saw
afterwards.  This of course greatly perked up the
interest of my young friend and all manner of sly
and not so subtile questions poured forth.  I just
told him that there were different ways of dealing
with stress and he was about to see one of the
stranger ways of doing this.


At precisely six a quiet knock at my door indicated
that my friend had arrived for a session designed to
bring him back down from the mental tension that had
plagued him all week.  He stood at the door with a
small tote bag in his hand and dressed in an Armani
suit that must have cost a thousand bucks, if not
more.  I introduced my friend to Scot and told him
that later in the evening Scot would join us in our
weekly 'behavior modification' bull session.  I
referred to my friend only as Fifi which put a
quizzical smile on Scot's lips every time I used it.
Leaving Fifi standing in the middle of my front
room, Scot and I left to go out and have supper.


All during the Italian pasta with delicious sauces
and the great Chianti wine Scot peppered me with
curiosity questions about my visitor.  I brushed
them off with a blanket, "Wait until later my little
naive fellow.  Just be prepared to have your mind
opened to new experiences that smolder within every
one of us."  I was betting that Scot would have a
rich learning encounter from all this rather than
what some people might think of as a soul
destroying, traumatic event.


When we returned to my apartment after eight the
whole place looked as neat as a pin.  The mess
created by two guys over the course of a week had
been all replaced by orderly piles of tidy material.
The carpets had been vacuumed, the beds made up with
clean sheets and all the dirty dishes had been done
and put away in their proper places.  A light was on
in the bathroom and the sound of scrubbing could be
heard.  I called out, "Fifi.  Get your sorry ass out
here now!  I want to know why a slut like you isn't
finished with a simple job that should have taken
you less than two hours to do."  In walked Fifi, a
sight to behold.  There in front of us was a blond
wigged, dumpy broad wearing mascara and bright red
lipstick.  Her/its legs were sporting heavy, thick
fishnet stockings and the feet were wrapped in tight
stiletto heeled shoes.  An extra tight corset was
laced so severely that the wearer had to stand with
perfect posture or risk not being able to breathe.
The pressure of the corset lifted the normal man's
nipples into small but ample breasts and rougue
covered the nipples making them stand out even
further.


Around her waist Fifi wore a pink tutu which only
drew more attention to her/its fat ass.  Fifi
demurely responded, "Oui Monsieur.  You called?"  In
my deepest, most censorious voice I told my French
maid that I was unhappy with the sloppy work she was
being paid to do and to get into the living room and
prepare herself for some well deserved discipline.
She quickly hobbled into my bedroom closet, withdrew
a slim whipping cane from the top shelf in the back
and arranged a foot stool in the middle of the front
room.  "Am I to keep my stockings up or rolled down
Monsieur?"  "Drop them down to your ankles you
bitch.  I don't want anything between your ass and
this switch to interfere with the sting you are
going to feel when I try to teach you simple work
methods.  Sorry-assed bitches like you have to be
made to pay for sloppy work.  Is that understood?"
The trollop standing there with a dejected look on
her face was only able to cast a downward glance.
She was prevented from showing a physical,
submissive posture by the few garments she wore.
"Assume the position, slut!"


End of Part 5

Comments or suggestions always welcomed.
sterling.jason (at) gmail (dot) com