Date: Tue, 26 Jun 2012 18:54:57 -0700 (PDT)
From: Beautiful Creamer <beautifulcreamer@yahoo.com>
Subject: Sissyboy Honeymoon (gay adult-youth)

Sissyboy Honeymoon (gay adult-youth)

By Beautiful Creamer


One -- The Wedding Day

"You have to stop crying, Rusty," Daddy said.  "You want to look pretty for
Mr. Biggenstiff, don't you?  The man's so excited about marrying you, he's
practically jumping out of his skin."

"But, Daddy," Rusty bawled.  "I don't want to marry Mr.  Biggenstiff!  Or
any man.  I'm only 10 and a half and I'm a boy!"

Well.

Rusty Wigglebottom was right on both counts.

But Daddy wasn't listening to his pretty son's objections.  "Now let's not
be silly, Sweetie.  You know we talked about this.  And you know that the
family needs you to marry him.  And you love your family, don't you?

Rusty did love his family.  He knew that Mr. Biggenstiff would be helping
his family.  And, ever since Mom and Daddy lost their jobs six months
earlier, the family needed help.  But he asked Daddy a very good question:
"Why can't Susan or Madison or Amy marry Mr. Biggenstiff?"

A reasonable question that deserved a reasonable answer.  Susan
Wigglebottom, aged 19, and her sisters Madison, 17, and Amy, 15, were every
heterosexual man's wet dream.

Tall and thin, but with mammoth boobs.  Wide hips and plump asses.
Beautiful, heart-stopping faces.

They would have been the perfect brides for Mr. Biggenstiff.

Except, "Mr.  Biggenstiff doesn't like females `that way,' Rusty," Daddy
said.

Which only made Rusty cry all the harder.  "So he's gay!!  And he thinks
I'm gay.  Which I'm not.  He's a perv.  A rich perv and you're all bowing
down to him because you need the money."

Well.

Daddy couldn't argue about that.

It was all true.

It was a bit unfortunate that Rusty would have to "take one for the team."
But that was life.  For Rusty anyway.

For the Wigglebottoms, it was new cars all around, even for Amy who wasn't
old enough to drive.  A big, new, paid-off home with taxes paid for 30
years.  And a beach home with the same terms.  Plus a generous, guaranteed
income for the family for 30 years.

Surely, Daddy reasoned, Rusty loved his family enough that he wouldn't
expect them to turn that down.

OK, so the boy would be going to bed every night with a 41-year-old man who
was intent on emptying two sets of testicles until they were bone dry.

Anal sex?

No problem.

Rusty would get used to it.  Maybe even come to love it.

He would probably even come to love Mr. Biggenstiff someday too.

Goodness knows, Mom, Daddy, Susan, Madison and Amy loved Mr. Biggenstiff.

It wasn't even one of those "'til death do us part" situations either.  A
standard sissyboy marriage contract is for three years.  Either party could
back out after then.  And Rusty would only be 13 and a half.  Plenty young
to go back to what he wanted to do.  Whatever that was.

It was a great deal all around.  Though Rusty didn't seem to see it.

Rusty had been a real pain in the neck about it all.  He even called child
protective services and the police to try and stop the wedding.

It was a good thing that Mr. Biggenstiff had a lot of friends and a lot of
money to give those friends.

A really sad thing about all this for Rusty was, he hadn't even met
Mr. Biggenstiff yet!  If he had met the man face-to-face, Rusty thought
that he could reason with him.  Pass off Susan or Madison or Amy on the
man.

In 15 minutes, the boy would be walking down the aisle at the Las Vegas
Wedding Chapel.  Attended by his three bridesmaid sisters.  Given away by
Daddy and Mom.

Rusty looked at himself in the full-length mirror.  And sniffled.

He wanted to raise a good, wailing sob, but every time he looked in the
mirror, he felt a little better.

He was beautiful.

Prettier even than his sisters.  Even if they weren't wearing those ugly
bridesmaids outfits that he had seen them in all morning.

Rusty didn't even know that they made wedding gowns for
10-and-a-half-year-old boys.

But this was Vegas.

And his gown was a stunner.

Mom had insisted on taking him to three bridal shops to find his gown.

Which was gargantuanly humiliating.  Though when it was just Mom and the
saleslady, Rusty did like what he saw when he looked into the shop's
mirrors.

He learned that the four basic types of gowns are ball gown, empire,
princess (also known as A-Line) and sheath.

A sissyboy, which was what the saleslady kept calling Rusty, is best served
by a ball gown or a sheath, since the others involve boobs.

The ball gown is the most traditional and is typified by a full bodice and
a waistline that leads to a very full skirt.  The slim sheath silhouette
closely follows the line of the body.

All the ball gowns Rusty tried on made him look like a beautiful ballerina.
Which was NOT what he wanted.  Though his penis thought otherwise.

Poor Rusty's pricklet was fatally erect every time he saw himself in a
wedding gown.

The sheaths looked good on Rusty as well, but weren't dramatic enough for
his...oh, he meant, his Mom's...taste.  And his bony collarbone looked bad
in the sheath's portrait, off-the-shoulder, or halter necklines.

So a ball gown it was.  And Rusty endured three fittings until all was
right.  Or as right as it could be under the circumstances.

Looking at himself aroused Rusty every time.  Except for that time an hour
earlier when Mom shushed everyone from the room and gave Rusty "the talk."

"You must submit to your husband, Honey. In all things.  He is your Lord
and Master."

"But, Mom.  Dad's not your Lord and Master.  You boss him around all the
time."

"That's different, Rusty. I'm talking about in the bedroom.  Now if
Mr. Biggenstiff wants to put his penis into your mouth, you let him.  You
must kiss, lick and suck it until he shoots his man's cream.  Either into
your mouth or all over your pretty face.  Do you understand?"

What Rusty understood was that he wanted to barf.  But Mom showed no mercy.

"And if he wants to put his penis inside you, `back there,' you must let
him.  You must show him how much you want him to do that loving thing for
you.  Do you understand?"

Was Mom saying that Mr. Biggenstiff was going to put his big, stiff cock
into Rusty's tiny asshole?

That did it.  The poor lad ran into the bathroom and barfed into the
toilet.  Not on his dress, which he hadn't put on yet.  Or his white,
two-inch-heeled, stiletto sandals that he'd been learning to walk in for a
month.

Mom waited patiently until Rusty staggered out of the bathroom and said,
"OK, then.  A bride always has pre-wedding jitters.  Let's hope that's the
last of yours."

Rusty settled down a bit after that.  He certainly hadn't accepted his
disgusting fate.  But he was sure that a last minute appeal to the governor
(Daddy) for clemency would be denied.  He was right.  So he took one last
look at his beautiful self in the mirror, took Daddy's arm with his right
hand and Mom's with his left.

The three entered the chapel.  Which was filled with friends, family and
curiosity seekers.

Rusty's three sisters were with him as the bridesmaids.  The three
groomsmen, each of whom was hoping to get lucky with a Wigglebottom
bridesmaid, stood tall to the left of Mr. Biggenstiff.

Mr. Biggenstiff!

At last.

Rusty shyly lifted his eyes to see the man who wanted to be his husband so
badly that he had put millions into Wigglebottom purses and pockets.

The man who was going to be VERY disappointed in a few minutes when Rusty
would say "I don't" rather than "I do."

Because there was NO WAY he would be marrying that creepy pervert.

Though Mr.  Biggenstiff didn't look like a creepy pervert.

He looked tall, fit and handsome. Very handsome.  And prosperous.  Very
prosperous.

But above all, he looked happy!

Which disgusted Rusty even more.  The creepy pervert was happy because he
thought he was going to marry a ten-and-a-half-year-old boy, then take him
home and FORCE the boy to have homo sex with him!

Well, Rusty had one last arrow in his quiver and it was almost time for it.

Rusty did experience a tingle or two as he walked down the aisle and
several men gasped at his beauty.

More pervs!

But it was still sort of affirming.

Mom, Daddy and Rusty arrived at the altar.

"Who gives this lovely sissyboy to be married?" the creepy perv of a creepy
minister asked.

"His mother and I," Daddy said.  Then he hugged Rusty, stepped back,
watched as Mom hugged Rusty, and sat with Mom to watch the so-called
wedding that wasn't about to happen.

"Do you take this sissyboy to be your lawful wife...in sickness or in
health...for richer or for poorer?  Will you love him and give him all the
spermy sex that a boy his age needs -- even up that beautiful ass of his --
several times a day -- for at least three years from this date?"

Rusty had never heard that at a wedding before.  He winced when
Mr. Biggenstiff said "I do," because here was his chance.  It would all be
over in a few seconds.

The minister turned to Rusty and said, "I have here a signed consent form
from the parents of Rusty Wigglebottom, minor child, that will suffice as
consent acceptance of the marriage.  I now pronounce you man and sissyboy!
You may kiss the bride."

WHAT!?!?!?!?!?!

HUH!?!?!?!!?!?!

BUT!?!?!?!?!?!?

Mr. Biggenstiff lifted Rusty's veil and kissed him!!!

Kissed Rusty!!

On the lips!!

And the wedding guests were all applauding and cheering.

Rusty wanted to scream about how unfair it all was.  But he found himself
in a receiving line at the back of the chapel, accepting well-wishes.  Then
at a reception where he and Mr. Biggenstiff danced, then Rusty danced with
Daddy to "Daddy's Little Girl."  They did the chicken dance and the hokey
pokey and everyone was coming up to Rusty telling him he was the prettiest
bride in history.

Was everyone crazy?

Suddenly it was 10 p.m. and he and Mr. Biggenstiff were leaving the
reception and everyone was saying goodbye.

The newlyweds got into a limo that took them to the town's ritziest hotel,
where they were shown to the honeymoon suite.

Mr. Biggenstiff carried Rusty, who was still wearing his gown, across the
threshold, into the room.

And suddenly...

Rusty was alone with Mr. Biggenstiff.

Who may have been a bit randy.

Terrified was too mild a word for what Rusty felt.



Two -- The Wedding Night

Poor Rusty.

Alone with a crazy person.

A lovestruck, pedo perv, who, rather than being ostracized and
incarcerated, was revered and envied.

At least 20 guys at the reception had leered at Rusty, then called
Mr. Biggenstiff a lucky stiff.

Mr. Biggenstiff was indeed lucky.  And indeed stiff.

But he knew that, while ripping Rusty's gown off and TAKING what was due to
him as the sissyboy's husband was an appealing option, if he wanted Rusty
to adore him and give himself freely and openly, very openly, other tactics
would apply.

So, slowly wins the race.

"Don't be afraid, my sweet Darling," Mr. Biggenstiff said to his boy bride.
"I would never hurt you.  I want our three years together to be the best of
our lives.  I can see you're tired and that gown must weigh a ton.  Let me
help you get it off so you can relax."

Rusty whimpered in fear.  Mr. Biggenstiff wanted to strip Rusty naked!!  So
he could do all that despicable stuff that Mom had told Rusty he should do
with his new "husband."

But he was going to have to take the stupid gown off eventually.  And he
had no idea how he would do it himself.

With no better option apparent, Rusty turned his back to Mr. Biggenstiff to
allow the man to unzip him.

Rusty shivered as the man slowly unzipped the gown.  Exposing his
creamylicious back to his "husband" for the first time.

Oh how Mr.  Biggenstiff ached to kiss each bared pore!

The boy was an innocent, gorgeous angel.  Who would only be defiled through
love and patience.

Oh, look!  Rusty was wearing a bra!

What a nice touch.  Unnecessary, but sexy as a stack of Sissy Boy Magazines
to Mr. Biggenstiff.

Rusty had sobbed when his mother had INSISTED on the bra that morning.  But
as in all other things, Rusty had surrendered.

Well, no more surrender, Rusty vowed.

Rusty was drawing the line.

When that beastly Mr. Biggenstiff tried to RAPE Rusty, the boy would kick
him right in his "package" and run out the door.

But Mr.  Biggenstiff wasn't RAPING Rusty yet.  All he was doing was helping
Rusty step out of a wedding gown that had gotten exponentially heavier all
day long.

It felt good to step out of it.

Though Rusty didn't like standing in front of Mr. Biggenstiff wearing only
his ridiculous bra; white, seamed, fully-fashioned, reinforced-heel-and-toe
stockings; a ruffled, white garter belt; and two-inch-stiletto, white heels
that were killing his feet.

It was one more humiliation on top of all the others.

Rusty was watching for Mr. Biggenstiff to make his RAPE move.

But all he did was get Rusty seated so he could lovingly remove his high
heels.

Well. That wasn't totally unpleasant.

Getting out of those heels was a great relief.  The boy's feet hurt!

Oh my.

The man was rubbing the boy's feet.  "You poor sweetheart," the sick,
perverted sicko perv who was a pretty good foot-rubber said.  "I can only
imagine how difficult it's been for you to spend a day in those heels.
Maybe I can make your feet feel a little better."

Actually, Mr.  Biggenstiff turned out to be a sick, perverted sicko perv
who was a world-class foot-rubber!

Rusty was enjoying something for the first time that day.

Sensing that, Mr.  Biggenstiff gave the boy a delicious, 20-minute foot
massage.  Relaxing the boy considerably.

So he could FUCK him right then and there!!!

No.

Be patient.

Mr. Biggenstiff was patient.

"I'm glad you're feeling better, honey.  Let me draw you a nice hot bath,
so you can relax before bed.  Unless you want me to help you undress some
more."

Rusty was quick to tell Mr. Biggenstiff that he did NOT need any further
help undressing.

Rusty had vowed never to be naked around Mr. Biggenstiff.

Only 1,095 days to go in the "marriage."  Surely Rusty could avoid
Mr. Biggenstiff that long.

If Rusty was naked, Mr. Biggenstiff would get a lot of perv ideas and do
pervy things to Rusty.  But even more importantly, when Mr. Biggenstiff was
giving Rusty that foot rub, Rusty's penis, without consulting Rusty, had
gotten ridiculously stiff.  And his peanuts were aching the way they did
that time he had found Daddy's sex magazine and looked at all the pictures
of big-breasted ladies.

Poor Rusty didn't know what else to do when he was reading that book.  All
he did was keep turning the page and feel the burn in his testicles.

When Mr.  Biggenstiff was done drawing the bath, Rusty would just go in
there, take off his bra, stockings, and garter belt and get into the tub
for a nice, hot bath.  After which, he would put on his pajamas and go to
sleep.  Since he was way tired!

Mr. Biggenstiff's plans differed slightly.

"Your bath is ready, Rusty," the man called.

Beginning to trust Mr. Biggenstiff just an smidgeon, Rusty entered the
cathedral-sized bathroom.  Mr. Biggenstiff had stripped to his boxers and
tee shirt!  And Rusty could see the man's cock tenting the boxers quite
nastily.

Rusty considered flight or fight, but the all-business Mr. Biggenstiff
allowed for neither.

"Well, you're certainly not going into the tub wearing those. Come over
here and let me help you. Don't worry.  I would never hurt you."

Oddly, Rusty believed the man when he said he would never hurt Rusty.  But
there were lots of unholy, non-hurting "liberties" the man could take.
None of which Rusty was planning to allow.

"You have to take a bath," Mr. Biggenstiff said.  "And I know that this day
has made you tense.  I'm sure your Daddy has given you baths and you found
them pleasant.  I'm your husband now and I want to do this for you."

There were probably a thousand reasons why what Mr. Biggenstiff was asking
to do was wrong.  But none sprang to Rusty's mind.  He almost said, "But
you'll see my stiffie, which I did NOT authorize my penis to produce," but
decided against it.

Before Rusty could form a protest, Mr. Biggenstiff was on his knees
unhooking Rusty's garter straps from his stockings.  The man motioned for
Rusty to sit on the toilet seat.  Rusty complied.  Then Mr.  Biggenstiff
rolled each precious stocking down each luscious leg.

Which made poor Rusty's Woodrow even more outrageous.

As well as Mr.  Biggenstiff's prize possession.

At Mr.  Biggenstiff's direction, Rusty stood and turned around as
Mr. Biggenstiff unhooked the boy's bra.

When Rusty did another 180 to face Mr. Biggenstiff, he was wearing only
tented panties.

And Mr.  Biggenstiff got his first sight of the twin titties on which he
would be nursing for three delightful years.

Mr. Biggenstiff gulped.

They were delightful.  Big and puffy.  More girlish than he could have ever
hoped for.

Those pretty nipples alone were worth what Mr. Biggenstiff had spent on the
wedding and all the stuff that the boy's greedy family had insisted on.

And the panties hadn't come off to reveal the penis, testicles and bum.

Oh how Mr.  Biggenstiff ached to see them.

The boy was blushing furiously as Mr. Biggenstiff slowly removed the
ridiculous panties Mom had made him wear for the wedding.

Despite his vows to himself only moments earlier, Rusty would be "showing
his junk" to the pervy man who gave nice footrubs.

Well, at least the man seemed to appreciate Rusty's beauty.

Rusty was actually moved by Mr. Biggenstiff's reaction when he had Rusty's
panties down to mid-thigh.

The man's eyes filled with tears.

Pervy tears, of course.

But appreciatively pervy tears.  For the sweetest little set of boy's
things Mr. Biggenstiff had ever seen.  And he had seen several.

Rusty's four delicious inches quivered with humiliation/excitement.  The
boy's foreskin was pulled back only partially over his deep-red,
blood-engorged knob.  His pink pole stood above a tiny bag of dangling
spheres that had just begun to ache with unfulfilled need.  Though Rusty
had no idea what he needed at that moment.

"You're beautiful all over, my sweet darling," Mr. Biggenstiff said.  "A
perfect angel."

Oh!

Rusty was a bit grossed out by being naked with a man who was probably
going to RAPE him any minute.  But who wouldn't want to hear the kinds of
things Mr. Biggenstiff was saying?

And the crazy rapist was acting awfully nice.  So far.

Rusty blushed at the praise.  And didn't run away screaming when the man
eased him into the tub of delightfully warm water.

Rusty's tensions began to ease as Mr. Biggenstiff drizzled warm water over
Rusty's head to wet his hair.  The way Daddy used to do for him when he was
seven and Rusty had to start taking his own baths.

Did Rusty miss the baths that Daddy gave him?  Kind of.  He was a little
jealous because sometimes, when Mom was off staying with her sister, Daddy
would take showers with Rusty's sisters.  And they were all older than
Rusty and didn't need Daddy's help.

Mr. Biggenstiff's fingers felt good as the man shampooed Rusty's longish,
dark-red hair.  When every follicle had been scrubbed, Mr.  Biggenstiff
rinsed the shampoo out, then began to wash Rusty's back with a warm
washcloth held by firm, manly hands.

Oh.  That felt very nice.  Though frightened and apprehensive, Rusty was
not immune to all that loving attention.

Mr. Biggenstiff then directed his attention and his washcloth to Rusty's
chest and [blush] nipples -- which he seemed to spend a great deal of time
washing.

Rusty quivered a bit at the friction on his nipples.  An erogenous zone he
didn't even know he had.

Mr. Biggenstiff rubbed each puffy nipple a bit more frictionally than he
had rubbed some other of Rusty's pretty parts.  Which didn't do much about
reducing the boy's enraged stiffie.

The young beauty's penis hadn't relaxed at all.

It seemed to throb even more insistently when the man asked him to lean
back in the tub and present each sweet foot for a tender scrubbing.

Oh the loving care the man lavished on each tiny toe!

Oh the incessant ache in Rusty's ballsack as the arousal without
fulfillment exacerbated.

Beginning to realize that the man's attentions had thus far been quite
pleasant and that he was unlikely to be RAPED in the next five minutes or
so, Rusty compliantly stood when his so-called "husband" asked to do so.

"I have to clean your bum now, sweetie.  Turn around."

Rusty panicked at that.  Presenting his bum to the man would give the
potential RAPIST just what he wanted, wouldn't it?

But what could Rusty do?

His family turned him over to the man.  Abandoning Rusty to his
homosex-drenched fate.

Though he had to admit that nothing unpleasant or even uncomfortable had
happened yet.

In fact, Rusty was glad to turn away from Mr. Biggenstiff, because the
boy's preposterously stiff cock was an embarrassment.  And was sending
Mr. Biggenstiff entirely the wrong message about Rusty's feelings about
Mr. Biggenstiff.

Oh.  That washcloth that Mr. Biggenstiff was rubbing all over Rusty's
bumcheeks felt so good!

The man was a wizard with a washcloth.

Wait.

What was the man doing?

HE WAS WASHING BETWEEN RUSTY'S CHEEKS!!

In the boy's most intimate areas!

That was wrong!!

Rusty was going to protest.

Right after he stopped moaning softly at how good it felt.

When Rusty realized that he was moaning, he blushed crimsonly.  Though he
didn't stop his appreciative grunts every time Mr. Biggenstiff gave his
anus a rub in passing.

Then things went up a notch.

"Boys need to clean themselves all over," Mr. Biggenstiff whispered
throatily.

Then he did a totally inappropriate, invasive, violationary thing.  The
soapy washcloth and two of the man's fingers entered Rusty's anus.

Four things happened.

Rusty formed the intent in his brain to scream at the violator and his rude
violation.

Mr. Biggenstiff's fingers found Rusty's prostate and gave it two and a half
rubs.

Rusty screamed, but not in protest.

Spunk flew like a late-for-work Clark Kent out of the boy's penis.

In thick, creamy ropes.

As the beautiful boy ejaculated in helpless awe.

What was the license number of that intergalactic, hyperdrive, starship
that just ran Rusty over?

Rusty's first orgasm was one for the intergalactic record books.

So that was what all that fuss was about, Rusty thought.  People did sex
things so that one of THOSE would happen.

Not entirely.  There were elements of love, lust, dominance and submission
involved.  But for guys, they pretty much did sex things so that one of
THOSE would happen.

A real eye-opener for Rusty.  But not a bum-opener.  He wasn't letting
Mr. Biggenstiff stick his business into Rusty's bottom.  Nor his mouth.

Uh-uh!

As the last drop of his virginal juices drooled from his deflated prick,
Rusty chastised himself for the unguarded act of gayness that he
inadvertently permitted himself to commit.

It wasn't the true Rusty, he told himself.  He was tired.  It was a weak
moment.  And it had felt extraordinarily good.  That goodness thing
wouldn't sneak up on him again, that was for sure.  No more unwanted
pleasure for Rusty.

For his part, Rusty's new husband was crediting himself with an early
victory.

On his wedding night, Mr. Biggenstiff would have surely preferred replacing
the two fingers still occupying Rusty's beautiful asshole with his prick.

But he had a sweet, innocent, reluctant bride.  Who must be treated with
caution and care.

And, hey, his new bride appeared to have a hair-trigger prostate.  Which
meant that Rusty would be wanting, even needing more stimulation "back
there" soon enough.  And Mr.  Biggenstiff knew what kind of stimulation
sissyboys liked best.

This was his third marriage after all.

One's wedding night when one is alone with one's naked bride is not the
time to be "wistful."  So let's just say that Mr.  Biggenstiff flashed back
momentarily to his first wedding night -- with the lovely Leslie
Spreadcheeks.

What a doll that 11-year-old brunet was!  How old would he be now?  18?
Yeah.  Dating sissyboys himself by now, Mr. Biggenstiff imagined.

Leslie wanted IT from Day One of their marriage.  Heck.  Before Day One.
And every day for three years from the wedding to the marriage termination.

Couldn't really call it a divorce since it was all planned from the
beginning to end on their third anniversary.

Leslie was cheating on Mr. Biggenstiff by the end of their marriage, of
course.  And not just at the sissyboy spunk parties they attended three or
four nights each week.

Mr. Biggenstiff never considered sissyboy spunk parties to be cheating.
They were just...recreation.

No, Leslie was dropping his panties for just about any man who smiled at
him.  Two months after their marriage ended, Leslie was married to a guy
who was OK with a 14-year-old boywife who gave him all he could handle,
then tried to give every other guy in town everything he could handle too.

Leslie was a phenomenal piece of ass though. [Sigh}

Oops.  Involuntary wistfulness again.

Mr. Biggenstiff's second boywife, Daniel, was as innocent as Rusty when
they married.  Perhaps because their marriage began on Daniel's
ninth-and-a-half birthday and lasted until the boy's twelfth-and-a-half.

Too young.

The boy was shy and uneasy about gay sex with a man four times his age --
if you can believe that.  And his asshole was so tight at first that it was
heavenly for Mr. Biggenstiff and hellish for Daniel.

Mr. Biggenstiff almost felt like a pedophile every time they fucked that
first year.  Until the boy was good and loose back there.

Almost.

The boy didn't even spunk until a week after their first anniversary.

But that first squirt transformed the boy into the sexiest, cock-hungriest
lover Mr.  Biggenstiff had ever had.

Being with Daniel prepared Mr. Biggenstiff for Rusty.  Who didn't seem the
least bit wistful as he turned to face Mr. Biggenstiff so that his "front
stuff" could be washed properly.

Using his experience with the reluctant Daniel, Mr. Biggenstiff didn't
mention the thick glob of cum that was running down the tile behind the
trembling Rusty.

All he said was, "I think you needed that, Baby.  Do your peanuts feel
better now?"

Rusty blushed flammably, but nodded his head in shy agreement.  His balls
did feel better.  He felt better all over, except for the shame and guilt
stuff.

Was Mr.  Biggenstiff going to touch his peanuts when he washed him?

Rusty didn't want that.  Mostly.

He didn't need it either, since he wasn't even stiff.  Prolonged stiffness
was the culprit, Rusty reasoned accurately.

Mr. Biggenstiff put more warm water on the washcloth and soaped it up well.

He gave his boywife's tummy a nice cleaning, along with a belly button
tickle.  Then he went to work on the thighs.  Outside.  Then [gasp] inside.

Oh no!

Rusty's stiffie was coming back!

Disaster.

Mr. Biggenstiff would reason that Rusty was gay because he got stiff when
the man touched him in touchy places.  Then he would MAKE Rusty accept his
disgusting cock in Rusty's little mouth.  Followed by the man sticking that
big monster into Rusty's bumhole!!

But that didn't happen.

Mr. Biggenstiff paid a lot of attention to Rusty's balls as he wielded that
washcloth.

Poor Rusty.  The boy groaned involuntarily at the gay sensations a sweet
ball rub was producing.

And his penis was once again humiliatingly stiff.

What was the man doing?!?!

He was TOUCHING Rusty's penis with his left hand.  Pulling back the skin
all the way.

Unnnhhh.

"A boy needs to clean under his foreskin every day, Sweetheart,"
Mr. Biggenstiff said.  "Dirt and stuff gets under there and it's not good.
Your foreskin is a bit slippery, but I'll get through this part of your
bath."

Mr. Biggenstiff was pretending to be having trouble getting a proper
skinning grip on Rusty's foreskin and Rusty was pretending to believe him.

The man was pulling the skin back three or four times, then washing the
beautiful, pink knob with the aforementioned washcloth.  Losing his grip on
the foreskin and beginning anew.  Twelve times.  Until...

"Oh, Mr.  Biggenstiff!" Rusty cried out.  As he heaved major cummies at his
attentive husband.  Who was merely involved in a hygiene exercise.

Some of Rusty's boy's cream landed on Mr. Biggenstiff's chest.  Some on his
lap.  But most ended up on his face.

Which delighted Mr. Biggenstiff.  And distressed Rusty.

RAPE time for sure, Rusty reasoned.

And he would be powerless to resist.  The man was so strong and powerful
and Rusty was just a small, helpless boy.

The only consolation, of course, was that, since Rusty would be powerless
to resist, he wouldn't be responsible for anything gay that happened.

So Rusty gritted his teeth and awaited his ravishing.

Which didn't happen.

The man was sitting on the toilet, using a towel to wipe Rusty's sperm off
his face and chest.  Then, "Let me dry you off now, sweetie."

What choice did Rusty have?  He was wet.  Mr. Biggenstiff controlled the
towels.

The boy stepped forward and submitted to a drying-off.

Which proved to be, like the bath that preceded it, unnervingly pleasant.

The man patted, rather than rubbed the boy dry.  With just enough firmness
and loving pressure to reawaken Rusty's treasonous cock yet again.

When every water molecule had been soaked up by the big, fluffy towels,
Mr. Biggenstiff set about powdering Rusty's body from his nipples to his
knees.

Which had the boy panting unwillingly yet again.  Then...

"Before I put on your nightshirt, darling, two last things."

What was Mr. Biggenstiff doing?

The man produced a bottle of some lotion or cream and was using one finger
to rub it all over Rusty's enflamed cockknob.

It felt so disgustingly good that tears were forming in Rusty's beautiful
eyes.  Oh, please make him stop, Rusty thought, or I'll do that...

What?

Mr. Biggenstiff stopped!

Why did he stop?

Rusty didn't want him to stop.

"That was just so your peener doesn't get sore after all that rubbing,
sweetie.  Just a bit more and then we can go into the bedroom and I'll
dress you for bed."

Mr. Biggenstiff had Rusty turn around.  The man restrained a gasp.  What a
marvelous ass the boy had.  Pink and plump.  Jutting backwards just a bit
in unwitting invitation.

Rusty hesitated a bit when Mr. Biggenstiff said, "Just hold your cheeks
open for a moment or two, Honey.  I need to do one more nice thing."

Was that when he would be RAPED?!?!?

Not yet.

Rusty held his two precious mounds apart while Mr. Biggenstiff applied a
cream to the opening of the boy's anus, entering it no more deeply than the
length of a fingernail, but drawing an involuntary moan of lust from the
young beauty.

Mr. Biggenstiff offered no explanation for his actions that time. He just
wanted to get a good look and feel of the asshole he would "own" for three
years.

Rusty felt a bit cheated.  All that nice rubbing stopped too soon!  But he
and his restiffened cock followed Mr. Biggenstiff into the bedroom.

Mr. Biggenstiff produced a pretty, white garment from his suitcase and
said, "This is your nightshirt, honey.  It's cool and comfortable.  I know
you'll like it."

Rusty wasn't so sure.

It wasn't exactly a girl's nightie.  The kind that his sisters Susan,
Madison and Amy wore when they sat on his lap before bedtime and kissed him
goodnight.

But it wasn't very manly either.

Skimpy would describe it best.  And diaphanous, though Rusty would have
called it "see-through."

Submissively, though, Rusty held his arms up and allowed his "husband" to
dress him in it.

Well, it was cool.  Breezy almost.

Though too short for Rusty's taste.  His "boy's things" were only
half-covered.

But it was too late and he was too tired to argue.

The bed looked really comfy.  And big.  Mr. Biggenstiff held the sheets
back for Rusty, then tucked the boy in.  Rusty was so tired that he didn't
really protest when Mr. Biggenstiff kissed him good night.  Right on the
lips!  [Ick!]

But it wasn't an entirely awful kiss.

"I'm going to take a shower now, Honey," Mr. Biggenstiff said.  Which
didn't really matter much to Rusty because he was drifting off.  Wondering
idly where the other bed was.  The one where Mr. Biggenstiff would sleep.

Rusty was warm and cozy.  Mom was hugging him so nicely.  Or maybe it was
Daddy.  Or Grandpa.

Then he woke up.

And saw that it was Mr. Biggenstiff hugging him!

In the same bed as Rusty!!

And [gasp] Mr.  Biggenstiff was naked!!!

[Though quite clean, having just showered.]

Mr. Biggenstiff wasn't doing anything exceptionally gay.  Just spooning and
hugging.  And keeping his hands to himself.  Though the naked part was a
bit disconcerting.  As was the massive lead pipe that was spooned up
against the boy's back.

Was that his "man's thing?"

Oh!

It was so big.  And hot.  And hard.

Rusty was a compassionate boy.  He logically deduced that if Rusty's
"things" ached when he was hard without relief, imagine the intense
discomfort suffered by someone with Mr. Biggenstiff's massive meat!

Rusty knew that he shouldn't be thinking about Mr. Biggenstiff's cock.  But
boys can be curious.

And since it had already introduced itself to Rusty's back...and since he
didn't want anyone, even a creepy perv like Mr. Biggenstiff to suffer...

Rusty rolled onto his back and in a small voice asked, "Are you awake,
Mr. Biggenstiff?"

The man answered immediately.  "I can't sleep.  I keep thinking about how
beautiful you are."

Good answer.

Rusty blushed.  And his cock leapt upward yet again.

"Do your peanuts hurt?" the sweet boy asked.

"Oh, yes, dearest.  But I don't want you doing anything you don't want to
do."  Which was a four-and-a-half-star lie.  But a good one nevertheless.

"I know it hurts.  I can help you. The way you helped me."

Not waiting for a retraction of the offer, Mr. Biggenstiff reached over to
the nightstand and grabbed a bottle of Slickyboy Masturbation Cream.

"Give me your right hand, Sweetie," the man asked.

Rusty complied.  And received a palmful of Slickkyboy.

"Just rub the head sweetly and I'll feel better soon," Mr. Biggenstiff
advised sagely.

Rusty was a bit hesitant. Or at least pretended to be.

But eventually, his curiosity and sense of fair play triumphed.

Mr. Biggenstiff groaned appreciatively when he felt Rusty's slick hand pull
back his foreskin to expose the beet red knob.

Rusty gasped at the size!

Then he gasped again because Mr. Biggenstiff's hand, which was also graced
with Slickyboy, found its way to Rusty's penis and testciles.

Man and boy rubbed and teased and tickled each other privates. A kiss was
all that was needed to complete the delightful activity.  So
Mr. Biggenstiff kissed Rusty.

Rusty didn't resist.

He was enjoying it all too much.

The boy found himself sucking on Mr. Biggenstiff's tongue as he rubbed the
man's cockhead and had his own rubbed equally well.

A tableau of ecstasy soon was created.

Mr. Biggenstiff spunked first (Rusty was on number three, after all) as
Rusty watched the sperm gusher with naughty delight.  And a vague sense of
accomplishment.

The boy asked himself, did Mr. Biggenstiff always make that much sperm or
was Rusty truly that beautiful?

Then the time for thinking passed.  Rusty's gut was sending out distress
signals.  A spermstorm was about to capsize the pretty boy.

And the swells were titanic.

Rusty sucked harder on Mr. Biggenstiff's tongue as he felt every drop of
moisture leave his body and jet onto Mr. Biggenstiff's hand and hairy
chest.

In truth, the fruits of the boy's third cum were mere dribbles.  But they
felt like the perfect wave to Rusty.

Man and boy kissed through Rusty's orgasm and its afterglow, then fell
asleep in each other's arms.



Three -- Marriage: Day One

The sun was everywhere when Rusty awoke.

What time was it?  Did he have to go to school?  Where was Mom?  She always
woke him up.

Realization.

Yesterday everything in Rusty's life had been radically changed.

He's been FORCED to marry a man four times his age.

The man had [gasp] seen Rusty naked.  Gave Rusty a bath.  Kissed Rusty!
Pulled Rusty's peeny!  And made the boy shoot gobs of that creamy stuff.

But worst of all, Rusty had liked all those gay things the man did. A lot.
Rusty had even pulled the man's penis and made the man shoot too, while he
was sucking the man's tongue.

They slept together, hugging.  The man was naked!

In the light of day, Rusty's behavior the previous day seemed appalling to
him.

It wasn't really an excuse to say that Rusty wasn't in his right mind. He
was homesick.  He was stressed.

He would never do it again.  Which he would tell that awful man as soon as
he saw him.

Where was he, anyway?

Oh.

Mr. Biggenstiff burst into the room.  He wasn't naked at least -- wearing
shorts and a tshirt.  And a big smile.

Probably feeling smug about hypnotizing Rusty last night and making him do
all those gay things.

The last gay things Rusty would ever do.

"Hi, sweetie!"  the big doofus said.  "Did you sleep well?"

And another thing, Rusty thought, why was he always so nice?

Was he really "in love" with Rusty?  Did he really think Rusty was
beautiful?  And sweet?

"OK, I guess," Rusty replied.

Mr. Biggenstiff recognized "post-wedding-night shame."  He had been married
twice before.  Three times if he counted those eight hellish years with
Mary Ann.  Ugh.

He knew how to deal with virginal reluctance too. Gently.

"The bellman just set up breakfast.  Why don't you go tinkle and join me.
I'll bet you're hungry."

Rusty was hungry.  Very hungry.

And he had to tinkle very badly.

The man understood him. Which was even more maddening.

Rusty got up and went into the bathroom.  Oh, it felt so good to pee.

Even though he kind of had to arc it a bit since he had morning wood.

He had to hold his nightshirt, his only garment, up too.

Something was dried and cakey on the shirt and on his tummy.

His sperm.  The man's sperm.  Ick!

More reasons to swear off gay activities.

Rusty took time after his pee to wash off the dried stuff.  With the same
washcloth that Mr. Biggenstiff had used to give the boy the best hour of
his life. He could even see the little poop stains from when the man had
entered Rusty's anus with it.

Ick!  Right?

He decided to just focus on breakfast.

Mr. Biggenstiff was in the suite's sitting room, at the table.  "Your mom
says you like orange juice, pancakes and sausage patties, not links.  Is
that right?"

It was.  Why did the man have to be so nice?  And attentive?

Rusty was a bit self-conscious, being in only an ultra-short, see-through
nightshirt.  But the pancakes and sausage were beckoning.  And they were
very good.

Mr. Biggenstiff didn't talk about any sex things at beeeakfast.  He just
asked about Rusty's school and his friends.

"You'll be going back to school in the fall.  And seeing all your friends.
If that's what you want," Mr. Biggenstiff told Rusty.

He would?

Maybe his life wasn't over.

It would be a bit humiliating to go back to school with everyone knowing
that Rusty had married a man over summer vacation.

What a rip-snorting, first-day-of-school essay that would be.

But Rusty would get over it.  And so would his friends.

How many days until school restarted?

Rusty finished his breakfast and realized that he had no idea what he was
supposed to do next.

Mr. Biggenstiff knew.  "We're going on our honeymoon today, Sweetie.  Once
we're cleaned up and dressed, we're going to the airport and flying to this
great resort on the island of Spermatozoa.  You like swimming, don't you,
Honey?"

It was true.  Rusty loved swimming.  But he was terrified of being in a
public place with Mr. Biggenstiff.  People looking at them and knowing that
Mr. Biggenstiff thought he and Rusty were married -- a state that Rusty
felt should be in dispute.

But there was no way out, was there?  Rusty's weak response was, "When is
our flight?"

"Whenever we get there.  It's a private jet."

That would have been very exciting to the normal Rusty -- the
day-before-yesterday Rusty.

It was all too terrifying for the poor boy.

Mr. Biggenstiff moved things along.  "Don't worry about the dishes.  Why
don't you go brush your teeth and shower while I get your clothes together
for the trip?"

Shower?

Rusty wasn't getting a bath?  Like last night?  With that wonderful
washcloth?

Was Mr.  Biggenstiff tired of Rusty already?  Insensitive to the boy's
needs?

Didn't Mr.  Biggenstiff see how much Rusty enjoyed last night's bath?  And
how the boy's pecker was vertical?

It couldn't be a question of limited time -- private jet and all.

Rusty cried a tear of rejection as he brushed his teeth and considered his
naked body in the bathroom mirror.

Still pretty good.  Beautiful, even.

What game was Mr.  Biggenstiff playing?

Rusty started the shower and got in.  With a clean washcloth and bottles of
shampoo and body wash.

The shower was steamy and felt good.  But it did nothing for the ache in
his pretty peanuts.

Then...

The shower door opened.  And a nude Mr. Biggenstiff joined Rusty.

Rusty should have screamed at the unwelcome intrusion.

But the truth was, he welcomed the intruder very nicely.  With a soapy,
naked hug of released anxiety.

Rusty whimpered for a moment when Mr. Biggenstiff pushed Rusty gently back
to separate them, but then saw why that was necessary.

Mr. Biggenstiff was carrying a large bottle of Showerfun, a new Spermbutt
Industries product that the erotic-product juggernaut claims is "babyoil
for the shower."

An oil that allows slippery, man-boy contact without washing off right
away?

Wow!

Only Carlton Spermbutt's genius could have spawned such a miracle product.

As Mr.  Biggenstiff slathered Showerfun all over Rusty's front from his
nipples to his knees, the man seemed to me in more of a hurry than Rusty
had yet seen.

Was Mr.  Biggenstiff extra-horny for Rusty?  Maybe Rusty hadn't lost "it."

The man then turned Rusty around and Showerfunned the boy from his neck to
the backs of his knees, with special attention to his plump, pink globes.
Lastly, Mr. Biggenstiff rubbed his own front down from nipples to knees.

And let the Showerfun begin!

Mr. Biggenstiff lifted Rusty by his bumcheeks just high enough so that
their mouths and stiff cocks were in contact.

Moist contact!

Rusty couldn't believe he was letting Mr. Biggenstiff do what he was doing
to Rusty.  Rubbing his huge cock against Rusty's needy woodie.

But it had all felt so awesome last night.  And in the morning, after an
initial bout with light-of-day shame, the boy realized that he wanted
"certain things."

And Mr.  Biggenstiff seemed to be the mother lode of "certain things."

The man was so manly and masterful.  And the way he made Rusty feel was
unbelievable.

Even if Rusty were able to be a big enough crybaby and whiner to keep
Mr. Biggenstiff from doing gay things with Rusty, everyone Rusty knew would
assume that he and Mr.  Biggenstiff were doing gay things anyway.  So what
was the point of resisting?

He would, however, resist one thing, no matter what.  That huge iron pipe
between Mr. Biggenstiff's legs was NEVER going into Rusty's tiny pucker.
He was sure of that.

Nor would Rusty ever lick, kiss or suck said iron pipe.  That was icky!
And Rusty was really sure of that too.  Pretty sure.  Mostly sure.

Those two little restrictions left a broad range of fun activities on the
table, Rusty reasoned correctly.

Most notably what they were doing right then.  Famished tongue-kissing as
baby-oiled cocks rubbed in hot pursuit of the day's first orgasms.

Mmmmmm.

Oh, baby, that felt good.

So good that it couldn't be gay.  Or against the laws of nature or the
state.

Mr. Biggenstiff was an excellent kisser and Rusty was a quick study.  The
boy loved being lifted by a strong man and consumed by adoring kisses.

He loved the erotic fury he felt as his tiny pink stiffness sought orgasmic
relief through friction against Mr. Biggenstiff's massive meat.

He loved the appreciative grunts of lust Mr. Biggenstiff was emitting as
they kissed and rubbed.

Nothing could be better, Rusty thought.

He was wrong.

Shifting one hand, Mr. Biggenstiff was able to position it so that he could
enter Rusty's bumhole with two highly lubed fingers.

The fingers reintroduced themselves to the boy's prostate.  Roughly.
Incessantly.

Rusty screamed in the agony of a scorching cum.

He felt every boiling sperm cell pass through his peehole and drench
Mr. Biggenstiff's pubis and stomach areas.

Rusty shivered with a lust so intense that he did something he never
imagined he would do.  He reached around Mr. Biggenstiff's hip, found his
anus and shoved three of his own fingers into the man's bumhole.

Mr. Biggenstiff was delightfully surprised.

And erotically overloaded.

He joined Rusty on the road to paradise.  Spunking mightily as Rusty
searched in vain for Mr. Biggenstiff's love button.

No matter.  The attempt was thrilling enough to draw major cummage from
Mr. Biggenstiff's balls.

A delightful shower it was. Though a bit constrained in the getting-clean
aspect.

Mr. Biggenstiff shampooed Rusty's hair again -- standing behind the boy.
Which led, of course, to Mr. Biggenstiff rubbing his half-stiffie against
the small of Rusty's back until it became a full stiffie.

Mr. Biggenstiff masturbated Rusty's cock lovingly with one hand as he
tweaked each boyish nipple with the other.

Oh dear.

Orgasm number two for them both.

Rusty was going to need a nap on the plane after all that.

Man and boy washed off, then got out of the shower and, through giggles and
stolen kisses, dried each other off with fluffy towels.

By that time, Rusty was ready to see if Mr. Biggenstiff wanted to teach him
some more aspects of married life, thus producing the day's orgasm number
three.

Surprisingly not.

"Let's get dressed and go, sweetheart.  There will be plenty of time for
lovemaking when we get to Spermatozoa."

Rusty winced at that.  Lovemaking?  Was that what Mr. Biggenstiff thought
they were doing?  Making love?  Rusty didn't love Mr. Biggenstiff.  He
could never love him.  Mr. Biggenstiff was a man and Rusty was a boy.  Men
and boys didn't fall in love.

What they were doing was a fun game.  The funnest one he had ever played by
a long shot.  But not "love."

Never.

Still...

Mr. Biggenstiff was awfully nice.  He seemed to care about making Rusty
happy.  And he had taught him that fun game.

Hmmmm.

"Here we are, darling," Mr. Biggenstiff announced triumphantly as he
extracted something from his suitcase.  "Put these on first.  I just know
you'll look amazing in them."

????

Mr. Biggenstiff was holding a pair of panties!

Panties!!

Wispy, yellow bikini panties made out of the same see-through material
Rusty's nighshirt was made of.

The lovestruck man was holding the panties expectantly, as if his life
depended on seeing Rusty wearing them.

The idea of panties was repugnant to Rusty.  But he didn't want to
disappoint Mr. Biggenstiff.  Who was getting to be more pugnant (opposite
of repugnant) all the time.

Oh my.

Rusty's boy's things felt so good in those panties.

And a stolen glance at a mirror told Rusty that he looked hot in the yellow
dazzlers.  Not manly, six-pack-abs, hairy-chest, ten-inch-cock hot.

More like girlish hot.

But hot.

Oh my.

Mr. Biggenstiff seemed to agree.

Despite all the recent activity, Mr. Biggenstiff's cock was stiff again.

And before Rusty could escape or even protest, Mr. Biggenstiff had drawn
Rusty to his lap and was kissing his mouth.

Which was very nice.

And playing with Rusty through his panties.

Even nicer.

Rusty was hard again.  The panties were soon off.  Man and boy were kissing
and stroking each other's cocks.

And a nice, creamy cum was had by all.

On the second try, Mr. Biggenstiff managed to get Rusty dressed without
further incident.

Though Rusty still bristled a bit at what Mr. Biggenstiff gave him to wear
over his panties.

Impossibly short shorts.  A tight tshirt so short that it exposed his belly
button.  And pink, strappy sandals with a one-and-a-half-inch heel.

It screamed, "I'm a cock-loving sissyboy.  Pull my panties down and fuck me
now before someone else gets to me first."

Fortunately, Rusty didn't even know what a sissyboy was, so he did not hear
his garments scream.

He thought he looked stupid, but in a hot sort of way.

Mr. Biggenstiff wore khakis and a polo.  They grabbed their bags and left
the scene of their first intimacies.

Rusty got a few hot stares on the way from the room to the limo outside.
But he hardly noticed.  Not recognizing that every man who saw him that day
would be wanking to a naughty conclusion as soon as he could.

Rusty couldn't help offering himself to Mr. Biggenstiff for some kissing
and clothed petting as the limo sped to the airport.

Mr. Biggenstiff was such a good kisser.  And a nice man.  Whom Rusty did
NOT love.  And never would.

The window between the driver and the back seat was very steamy by the time
they arrived at the special gate for private planes.

More hot stares for Rusty as they went through security.

Rusty knew something was different about his world, but wasn't sure what it
was.  Oh well.

The plane was very big for a private plane.  And very private.

Only Rusty, Mr.  Biggenstiff, the pilot and the co-pilot.

The aviators looked at Mr. Biggenstiff as if to say, hey, boss, if you need
any help taking care of that hot number, we're here for you.  But they
didn't say it.

When they got into the air, Rusty thought about that nap.  But he needed
something more than sleep.

The boy unbuckled his seatbelt, stood and dropped his pants -- panties and
all.

Feeling sexy and desirable for the first time in his life, Rusty sissied
over to Mr.  Biggenstiff, wiggling his bum just a little bit provocatively.
Then the boy sat on the man's lap.

Well.

That was a big improvement from 24 hours earlier, wasn't it?

Mr. Biggenstiff unbuckled his seatbelt and welcomed Rusty with a deep, wet
kiss.

From which he broke off ten seconds later without touching Rusty's penis.

Odd.  Until...

"Stand in front of me, Beautiful," the man ordered.

Was Mr.  Biggenstiff going to wank him straight on?  And shoot the creamy
stuff right at his face or chest or something?

Not exactly.

Though the man did embrace Rusty's cock with his hand.

Mr. Biggenstiff's hand wasn't Rusty's cock's final destination.

The man said, "Step closer, honey."

Rusty did.  Anything to get the man to rub his peter.

Mr. Biggenstiff exceeded Rusty's expectations. Big time.

The man licked Rusty's cockhead.

Bazinga!

Then the man took the entire knob into his wet mouth. Ran his tongue around
it in a 360.  And sucked!

Rusty's ears ignited.

The boy had never felt anything half as good.

And the man was just getting started.

Knowing that the boy showed all the signs of being a lifelong "anal
enthusiast," Mr. Biggenstiff reached behind Rusty with his left hand and
slid his middle finger into the boy's sweet pucker.

Rusty squealed.  Which added a good half inch to Mr. Biggenstiff's already
big woodie.  He loved making boys squeal with erotic delight.

Rusty's cockteasing had aroused his husband to the point where he hoped
that he wouldn't exceed his brief.  Or his briefs.  By fucking Rusty right
on the floor of the plane.

Stay on plan, the man told himself as he fingerfucked Rusty and sucked his
cock.

The boy was sobbing with lust.  Overcome by his hormones and the awakening
of his huge, dormant sexuality.

Mr. Biggenstiff did a great job of delaying Rusty's orgasm.

One's first blowjob shouldn't be slam-bam.

He backed off from the boy's cock and prostate whenever Rusty got close.
Until the intervals needed to hold back grew longer and longer.

Sensing it was time to let the orgasm 18-wheeler through the roadblock,
Mr. Biggenstiff finally let the boy squeal and squirt through a
finger-in-the-bum-clenching mouth-drenching mammoth in its intensity.

The boy's pretty bosom was heaving and his eyes were wet with emotion when
his spermstorm finally subsided.

He attacked Mr.  Biggenstiff with kisses and grateful embraces, then
fumbled for the man's manly meat.

Mr. Biggenstiff helped Rusty's efforts by standing, dropping his pants,
then kicking them off.

Wouldn't you?

Rusty looked at Mr. Biggenstiff's large priapis.  The first time he had
really gotten a full look in full daylight.

How tall it stood!

How proud!

The prominent veins on either side throbbed with unfulfilled need.  A need
that Rusty could satisfy for the nice man who gave Rusty big orgasms.

And that ballsack!  Hanging there so casually, while so much sperm
production was occurring backstage.

Rusty was pretty sure that if he just licked...no, wait...not
licked...cuddled those fat eggs while kissing Mr. Biggenstiff the man would
shoot everywhere.

Speaking of cream.  What happened to the cream that Rusty had just shot?

Did Mr.  Biggenstiff...?

He ate it?!?!?!

Mr. Biggenstiff ate Rusty's boy's cream!?!?!?

Rusty was simultaneously repulsed and excited by the notion that
Mr. Biggenstiff would do such a gay, semi-disgusting thing.

Rusty was still pretty sure at that point that Mr. Biggenstiff was gay.
And that Rusty wasn't.

The things we tell ourselves so that we can sleep nights.

Rusty had to admit that Mr. Biggenstiff's cock was a beauty.  If you liked
men's cocks.  Which Rusty did not.

It was so big and hot and hard.

Rusty guessed seven inches.

It was actually 8.16 inches long.  And quite fat.

A lot of meat for any boy's bum.

Which was why anal sex was off the table.

Though Mr.  Biggenstiff did deserve something special for what he had just
done for Rusty.

Rusty watched in wonder as Mr. Biggenstiff's cock responded to Rusty's soft
caresses.

It seemed to grow bigger, hotter and harder with each stroke of Rusty's
soft hands.

What was that?

Oh!

A pearl of almost clear liquid had formed at the man's peehole.

Rusty dropped to his knees to examine it further.

Which seemed to please Mr. Biggenstiff greatly.

Was Mr.  Biggenstiff thinking that Rusty was about to suck his new
husband's cock?

That wasn't Rusty's plan at all.  He just wanted to get a closer look at
things down there.

Darn it.

If Rusty didn't at least kiss Mr. Biggenstiff's cock a little bit, the man
would be disappointed.

Rusty hated disappointing people.  Even someone who as early as 18 hours
ago Rusty had characterized as a pervy rapist.

Rusty had been wrong about that.

The man had been sweet and gentle.  And had introduced Rusty to a number of
things that Rusty liked better than everything else on earth thus far.

Plus, there was the matter of fairness.

Mr. Biggenstiff had sucked Rusty's cock.  Kissed it and licked it too.  And
did it all while he was pressing that magic bum button that Rusty didn't
even know he had.

And then [blush] the man had swallowed all of Rusty's boy's cream.

Quite a list.

Which Rusty had no intention of matching.

Though he certainly could do one or two of those things for
Mr. Biggenstiff.  To be fair.  And not disappointing.

Rusty seemed to like Rusty on his knees, so the boy stayed there.

The young beauty leaned forward and, in a passionate impulse, licked that
pearldrop right off the tippy top of Mr. Biggenstiff's dick.

Mr. Biggenstiff liked that.

Rusty could tell.

So, with full eye contact with Mr. Biggenstiff, Rusty swallowed the drop
and licked his lips.

This "stuff" is in every boy, Mr. Biggenstiff observed to himself for the
millionth time.  And it doesn't take all that much to bring it out.

Rusty's "stuff," it appeared, had not been buried very deeply.

Rusty liked the way Mr. Biggenstiff groaned.  It appeared that Rusty was
the one in charge at that moment.

He pressed his advantage.

By swirling his tongue all over Mr. Biggenstiff's skinned cockhead.

Mr. Biggenstiff really liked that.

And the cocksucking ice was shattered.

Rusty did what he could to duplicate what Mr. Biggenstiff had done for
Rusty.  Except for the prostate rub, since the man was sitting.

With a bit of effort, Rusty was able to get the entire head of
Mr. Biggenstiff's cock into his wet mouth.  Which delighted the man and
choked the boy until Mr. Biggenstiff coached him into breathing through his
nose.

Rusty did a very nice maiden cruise around Mr. Biggenstiff's prize
possession.

Mostly licking.  With the occasional withdrawal for some sweet cock kisses.

At one point, Rusty even had the presence of mind to give Mr. Biggenstiff a
nice, once-around ball-bath.

Which drove Mr.  Biggenstiff to the precipice.

Rusty's recapping of the knob with his mouth shoved the man over.

Rusty was totally unprepared for what happens when a man shoots his full,
creamy load into your mouth.

So he backed off after the first creamy jet hit his tonsils.

He gagged a bit, but not badly.

And the gagging preoccupied him from getting out of the way of creamy jets
two through seven.

Oh dear.

The boy's pretty face was soaked with cum.  As were his hair, and tshirt.

Despite being in the throes of a major orgasm, Mr. Biggenstiff was able to
form a rational thought.  Had he grossed the boy out -- setting back his
"development" by days, weeks or even months?

Not really.

Rusty giggled.

"What a mess!" he said.  "You really needed that, Mr.  Biggenstiff."

Mr. Biggenstiff was delighted at the boy's plucky good humor.

He drew the boy to his feet, then his lap and kissed him ardently.

Very messy kisses.

Lots of sperm.

The very best kind.

Both man and boy looked a fright when they had cooled off a notch.

Mr. Biggenstiff eased the boy off his lap, then went to the back of the
plane.  Returning with a clean outfit for them both.

Rusty said, "Shouldn't we wait to put those clothes on until just before
landing?  In case, you know, we mess up again."

It appeared that Mr. Biggenstiff had made a good selection for his bride.

It was a three-hour flight, so Rusty was sucked off most deliciously (and
neatly} by Mr.  Biggenstiff, then, asking Mr. Biggenstiff to stand, Rusty
added the finger-in-the-bum enhancement as he sucked Mr. Biggenstiff to s
second creamy conclusion.

That time, the boy was able to swallow the first two cum jets before
gagging.

After some more post-orgasmic kisses, Rusty fell asleep on
Mr. Biggenstiff's lap.  Mr. Biggenstiff soon joined him in the sleep of the
innocent.

They both snored lightly until the pilot pinged Mr. Biggenstiff with a
30-minutes-to-landing message.

The man was all business that time, washing Rusty and himself off, then
changing both into outfits similar to the cumdrenched articles on the floor
of the plane.

Man and boy strapped themselves into their seats.  The co-pilot appeared
and did his pre-landing checks.  Giving no indication that he knew what had
just occurred.  Though he'd been flying Mr. Biggenstiff around for ten
years and knew exactly what went on with his boss's boydates and boywives.

The pilots did so because, a) the pay was fantastic b} the hours were
minimal and c) the perks were astounding.

For example, during Mr. Biggenstiff's entire two --week honeymoon with his
third boywife at Spermatozoa island, both pilot and co-pilot would be
enjoying a "honeymoon experience" with a beautiful young "employee" (or, if
they wished, a succession of young employees) of the resort next door to
the resort where Mr. Biggenstiff would be staying.

A privilege afforded to them at least once per quarter.

They would die for the man.

But not that day.

The plane landed safely at Spermatozoa International at 2:06 p.m. local
time.

All was arranged for Mr. Biggenstiff and party to sail through customs to a
waiting limo provided by the resort.  And by 2:56 local time, man and boy
were in their honeymoon suite.

Alone.

What to do?

A swim in the pool?

A late lunch?

Sex?

Let's stipulate that they chose sex.

Not fucking sex.  But definitely sex.

The hotel suite was exquisite.  As was the boy whose new husband was intent
on offering Rusty an advanced degree in sex education over the next two
weeks.

Beginning with a bath in the deep, double-wide, soaking tub.  Which, by
pre-arrangement had been drawn and heated to coincide with their arrival.

Rusty was hoping to have his cock sucked before he got into the tub, but
Mr. Biggenstiff was a gentleman.

Sex with clean partners while clean yourself is the best sex.

At least one BEGINS in a clean condition.

The couple stripped and dipped into the tub, which was a sensuous pleasure
in its own right.

Rusty folded himself into Mr. Biggenstiff's arms.  Teasing the man's chest
hair with his soft fingers.  Offering his open mouth for the man's tonguey
kisses.

All of Rusty's innate, sissyboyish, cockteasing instincts were striving to
breathe free.  And mostly succeeding.

As they kissed and grunted with sodomistic delight, the young beauty
lightly brushed Mr.  Biggenstiff's rampant cock with the backs of the
fingers of his soft, right hand.

For the first time, Rusty was contemplating the possibility that he might
be gay.  When Mr. Biggenstiff began "taking liberties," Rusty felt that he
was being coerced, thus innocent of gaydoing.  After the first couple of
intestine-blasting orgasms, he felt as if he were exploring a strange,
forbidden, new world of sinful pleasure -- kind of like that time he and
Jimmy Pubpounder had sneaked behind the barn at Jimmy's grandpa's farm and
SMOKED cigarettes!!!

Kid stuff.

But on the plane, Rusty had dropped his drawers and sat on
Mr. Biggenstiff's lap.  With full same-sex intent.

And there he was.  Naked.  Willingly, eagerly naked in bed with the equally
naked Mr. Biggenstiff.  Playing teasy games with the man's fat prick.  As
he tongue --kissed the man's mouth.

Willingly.

Eagerly.

So that settled that.

Rusty Wigglebum was gay, World.

Or at least acting gay.  Convincingly.

Oh my.

There were those delicious fingers in his bumhole again!

Until yesterday, Rusty couldn't have contemplated the concept of fingers in
the bumhole.  Let alone the anal pleasures they engendered.  If fingers
felt that good, how would a cock feel?

No!

The boy dismissed that ridiculous notion.

Mostly.

And focused on the building pressure in his nutbag as the man tormented the
boy's prostate without mercy.

Oh!

The man slid south and took the boy's prick into his mouth as he massaged
his internal "boy button."

Powerful sensations!!!

Urgent sensations.

Rusty squirmed and squealed as his orgasm rolled down the tracks toward
him.

Just as things had reached critical mass, he looked down at Mr. Biggenstiff
doing his delicious task.  The man's eyes locked with Rusty and the boy saw
something that scared him more than the Speedball roller coaster at
Motionterror Park last summer.

Mr. Biggenstiff loved Rusty!

There was no mistaking that look, even for a callow lad like our Rusty.

How did that happen?

They only knew each other for two days.

Rusty didn't love Mr. Biggenstiff.  He never could.  But Mr. Biggenstiff
loved Rusty!

Rusty wanted to feel icky-bad about Mr. Biggenstiff's misdirected love.
But all he felt was power.

Power over men.

Men who desired him and would do anything for Rusty if the boy let them
suck his cock and kiss him.

The thought, the very thought, that, for the first time, Rusty had power.
Even over a man as manly as Mr. Biggenstiff...

Rusty screamed out in full, heaving ecstasy as he filled the man's -- his
man's -- mouth with sweet love juices.

Mr. Biggenstiff sucked it down eagerly.  Feeling confident that his third
boywife had just had the moment of twin revelations that all his boys had
undergone: "I'm not gay, but I love doing gay things" and "I'm really in
charge here because men want me to do sex things and I get to decide if I
do those sex things."

A good revelation, Mr. Biggenstiff knew.

He also knew that anal sex usually soon followed those twin revelations.

Mr. Biggenstiff liked anal sex.

He also loved having his prick lovingly sucked too.  Which was what Rusty
did as soon as he returned to his home galaxy.

Rusty was becoming an excellent little fellatrix, Mr. Biggenstiff decided.
And a quick learner about the location of the prostate.  The boy was
rubbing the man's "walnut" slowly, but enthusiastically as he consumed the
man's cockhead with tongue and mouth.

Because he wanted to.  He had the power.

At 6 p.m. Mr.  Biggenstiff had to be the grownup. "I love what we're doing,
Baby," he told the boy, "but we haven't eaten since breakfast and I'm
hungry.  Are you hungry?"

Funny.  Rusty hadn't thought about food.  Though he had consumed quite a
bit of protein that fine day.

He could eat.

And he loved being led by his masterful man.  Even though Rusty was
powerful too.  Because he allowed the man to master him.  And he could stop
whenever he wanted.

At the moment, he was enjoying the ride.

Rusty's powerful man took him to the bathroom where they enjoyed a nice
warm shower together.  And a mostly dry, soapy-cock-to-soapy-cock mutual
cum.  Because the sperm reserves of man and boy had been relocated from
their testicles to each other's stomachs.

As always, Mr.  Biggenstiff dried and powdered his boywife.  Which produced
two fresh stiffies.

But, despite each lover's "growing need," Mr. Biggenstiff was resolute
about going to dinner.

The man dressed first -- in Bermuda shorts, sandals and a Hawaiian shirt.

Then he gave Rusty his "outfit du soir."

Oh!

Rusty wasn't sure he could wear that outfit in public.  Until
Mr. Biggenstiff promised him an unnamed "something special" after dinner.
And told the boy that on Spermatozoa Island, the boys all dressed
provocatively for the men.

Rusty's particular form of provocation came in the form of a super-skimpy,
emerald-green (for his red hair) string-bikini bottom; matching, strappy
sandals with a two-inch, stiletto heel; and what wasn't really a bra --
more like a two-inch-wide, elastic, emerald-green, satin strap that covered
his nipples.

It was humiliating!

And wildly exciting.

Mr. Biggenstiff said that he didn't want all the men staring at Rusty's
beautiful nipples, which were Mr. Biggenstiff's alone to suck.

Rusty didn't mind Mr. Biggenstiff's male possessiveness.  He kind of liked
it.

Rusty spent a bit more time than he had intended admiring himself in one of
the room's full-length mirrors.  He noticed right away (right after he
noticed how truly beautiful and sexy he was) that the heels made his
chest/nipples jut forward and his bottom jut backwards.  He also noticed
that his bottomcheeks were 98% exposed!

It was a slutty look.  Very slutty.  That would arouse every man he met
that evening.

Rusty shivered at the prospect.

Finally, off they went to the resort's dining room at ocean's edge.

Rusty was holding onto Mr. Biggenstiff's arm.  Partly because he was only
partially confident in the stiletto heels.  But mostly because he wanted to
show any other boys who might be looking at Mr. Biggenstiff that the man
was Rusty's property!

The maître d' greeted Mr. Biggenstiff by name and made a big fuss
over Rusty.  Which told the boy that he was probably not the first young
beauty Mr. Biggenstiff had brought to Spermatozoa.

No matter.

Rusty was living in the present.

And a very fine present it was.

There were 15 couples in the room when Rusty and Mr. Biggenstiff entered.
Manly men and their sissyish sissyboys.

All the boys were deliciously beautiful.  But Rusty was the true banquet.

Thirty heads turned when Rusty wiggled his exposed bum through the dining
room to their table.

They're all looking at my ass, Rusty thought. I must have a really nice
one.  One that they would want to do sex things with.

A thought that 48 hours ago would have terrified him.  Now it made his
penis very stiff -- tenting his bikini bottoms.

Rusty made sure that everyone had a good, long look at his ass before he
wiggled his way into the booth.  Mr. Biggenstiff sat next to him.

"They think you're exceptionally beautiful, Honey.  Which is an amazing
compliment because every boy on Spermatozoa Island is a stunner.  Thy also
think you have the best ass they've ever seen.  I agree."

Rusty beamed with narcissistic pride.  And rewarded Mr.  Biggenstiff's
compliment with a long, tonguey kiss.  Until Mr. Biggenstiff stopped it so
they wouldn't die of starvation.

Man and boy ate plates of red meat and veggies.  Kissing now and then when
their ardor overwhelmed them.  But no cock-fondling.  Which meant that when
dinner was over, both were in quite a state.

Not so much of a state that Rusty would deny the other diners a nice exit
promenade.  But a state.

Back in the suite, Mr. Biggenstiff proposed a bath.

Mmmmm.

Naked in the tub together.

Lots of kisses and toyings with private parts.  But no orgasms.

Mr. Biggenstiff had promised Rusty "something special."  He hoped it wasn't
a night of celibacy.

When man and boy were dried and powdered, they retired to one of the
suite's king-sized beds.

Lying side by side.  Kissing and rubbing cocks.

Oh.

Rusty felt a long-delayed orgasm approaching and whimpered accordingly.

Which was the signal for Mr. Biggenstiff to back off.

"I don't want you to cum yet, Sweetheart.  Not until we've done something
special."

Rusty panicked.  Was something special FUCKING?!?!?!

Rusty didn't want a big prick in his heinie!!  Ripping him apart!!

He started to protest but Mr. Biggenstiff had already lain on his back.
Magnificent cock pointing skyward.  Did the man expect the boy to sit ion
that iron pipe??

He couldn't.

He didn't.

That wasn't the plan for the evening at all.

"I want you to sit on my face, Darling," Mr. Biggenstiff said.

Huh?

Sit on his face?  How?  Why?

The answers: "Come over here and kneel, straddling my shoulders, facing my
feet.  That's it.  Oh, what a beautiful sight your asshole is.  Now ease
your bum down onto my face.  I'm going to lick and eat your asshole until
you shoot your cream.  For as long as you like.  Which I think will be
quite a while."

Oh. This was the outright gayest thing they had ever done.

A man "eating out" a boy's asshole!

Would he really...

Oh.  He would!!

Rusty was "sitting pretty" as Mr. Biggenstiff stuck his long, talented
tongue right up Rusty's bazingahole.

Rusty squealed at the outright filth of it all.  And the audacity of
Mr. Biggenstiff.

It was so intense that the boy's eyes filled with tears.  He was so
flattered that someone would adore him so much that he would tongue out his
asshole.

The boy's pentup orgasm built quickly and was joyfully enjoyed by man and
boy.

Rusty was a generous boy.  After his heartstopper of a cum, he leaned over
and sucked Mr. Biggenstiff's cock as the man continued to eat him out.

Rusty's swirling tongue soon made Mr. Biggenstiff's balls erupt.  Followed
forthwith by Rusty's second spunkfest.

Neither combatant would leave the battlefield, so Rusty swallowed
Mr. Biggenstiff second load, then released his own hot cream onto
Mr. Biggenstiff's cum-drenched chest hairs.

Man and boy were more exhausted than you were just reading that.

So they settled back for some sweet, naked kissing.  With Rusty telling
Mr. Biggenstiff how grateful he was for what the man did.

"That was awesome, Mr. Biggenstiff.  Will we be doing that a lot?"

"Whenever you want, Baby."

What happened next puzzled Rusty a bit.

The man reached for the remote and turned on the television.

Television?

They didn't need no STINKING television.

They had other fun stuff to do.

But, as always, Mr. Biggenstiff had a plan.

He punched in a few numbers and summoned a very selective piece for the
96-inch, HD screen.

"Anal Adventures 42: A Sissyboy Enterprises Production"

Huh?

Rusty looked at Mr. Biggenstiff, who said, this is a really good movie,
babydoll.  I know you'll like it."

Rusty wasn't so sure.

Until he saw the actors.  A deliciously pretty eleven-year-old named
Ralphie and a man named Bruno right out of central casting for 30-something
stud.

The man and the boy were scorching hot for each other.

Just like Mr.  Biggenstiff and I are, Rusty thought.  His previously
vanquished penis twitched as he saw the naked couple tongue kissing and
fingering each other's assholes.

He blushed when he saw the unrestrained ecstasy on Ralphie's face when
Bruno ate his "pussy" with loving gusto.

Had Rusty looked like that -- so out-of-control and [gasp] in love with the
pussyeater?

He stole a look at Mr. Biggenstiff's penis.  It was moving a bit, but could
use Rusty's help. So the boy fondled the man's prick as they watched the
movie.

Rusty imagined that in the next bit, the boy would be sucking the man's
prick as analingus proceeded.

Not exactly.  They were going off script.  Bruno was squirting some stuff
called Spermbutt Anal Lubricant onto his fingers and using it to further
enlarge the boy's bumhole.

Why was he doing that?

Oh.

"Run, Dummy!"  Rusty was mentally saying to the boy in the movie.  "He's
going to FUCK you!  And probably kill you in the process!"

But Ralphie didn't run.  He knew what was coming and he wanted it to
happen.  Wanted to be fucked.  More than he wanted his next breath.

When the man thought that he had done as much lubrication and dilation as
he could, he rubbed the Spermbutt Anal Lubricant all over his amazingly
large cock -- bigger than Mr. Biggenstiff's even.

Rusty wanted to cover his eyes, but he had to see the boy's sad, violent
demise.  It would be a lesson to other boys who thought they could take
huge cocks into their bums and live to tell about it.

The boy willingly got onto all fours and wiggled his ass at his man.

Suicidal, no?

The man knelt behind the boy, lined up his shot and slid the entire length
of his enormous schwannstucker into the boy's bowels.

Oh the horror!  The screams!  The blood!

Wait.

None of that.

Just that look of ecstasy again.  Only more ecstatic.

The boy was being fucked.  And he liked it.  Loved it.  And sperm jumping
from his teeny peeny a minute after he was penetrated proved that it was no
phony act.

Rusty almost didn't notice that Mr. Biggenstiff shot his spunk at that
point in the film.

Did Mr.  Biggenstiff think that men should fuck boys?  Did he want to fuck
Rusty?  Did he expect Rusty to let Mr. Biggenstiff fuck him?

Mr. Biggenstiff kissed Rusty goodnight, rolled over and went to sleep.

Rusty was so tired that he soon joined him.


Four -- Marriage, Day Two

Rusty awoke to Mr. Biggenstiff bustling around with the breakfast that room
service had just brought in.

He was wearing only a t-shirt and his erect morning wood looked delicious
to Rusty.

So the boy hustled over to his man, threw a pillow on the floor, knelt on
it and showed the man once again why sissyboys are superior to women.

Rusty kissed, licked and sucked his man's cock until he harvested the day's
first fruits.  Swallowing the entire hot load that time.

Progress, ever progress.

Mr. Biggenstiff returned the favor, then the lovers sat down to a hearty
breakfast of ham and eggs.

"Let's go the pool before we wash up today," Mr. Biggenstiff suggested.

Sounded good to Rusty.

Though he wondered what kind of ridiculously sexy outfit Mr. Biggenstiff
would want Rusty to wear.

He soon found out.

Mr. Biggenstiff wore a standard, black speedo.  He handed Rusty what the
boy could only call a pouch with floss.

The pouch covered his boy's things.  Barely.  The floss held the pouch on
around his waist, but exposed his entire ass and, if he bent over, his
asshole.

Well.  It had been fun teasing everyone last night at dinner, Rusty
recalled.

So he put the so-called suit on.

And blushed when Mr. Biggenstiff wolf-whistled.

They walked to the pool arm-in-arm and saw seven or eight couples already
there.

More stares.  Even some drools.  Oops.  Rusty had an erection.  Somehow the
suit managed to stay on.

Mr. Biggenstiff sat in a lounge chair.  Rusty wasn't sure exactly what to
do.  He wasn't sure that his suit would survive a dip in the pool.

Then Benny arrived.

Benny was the second-prettiest boy on Spermatozoa Island at that moment.
Blond.  Just turned eleven.  Well-filled speedos.

"Hi, I'm Benny," the boy said to Rusty.

Oh dear.  This was a pretty boy.  His cock twitched.

Did Mr.  Biggenstiff notice?

Rusty didn't want to make Mr. Biggenstiff jealous.  Rusty wasn't attracted
to Benny.  But he was just so pretty.

"Is that your Daddy?" Benny asked.  "He's really good-looking."

His Daddy?  Was Benny nuts?  Why would a boy go to a sex-island with his
Daddy?

Plus, what was this kid doing sniffing around Mr. Biggenstiff?

"That's my husband," Rusty declared proudly.  Drawing a sly smile from
Mr. Biggenstiff.

Benny said, "You lucky duck.  You're married.  You two can be together all
the time.  What's your name?"

"Rusty.  Rusty Biggenstiff."  Oh my.  Had Rusty used his husband's last
name as his own?  He had.

"My name's Benny.  Benny Proudcock.  And that's my Daddy over there."

Rusty was a bit repulsed at the notion of incest.

His Daddy would never want incest things with Rusty.  Though now that Rusty
thought about it, was Daddy a bit too friendly with Rusty's sisters now and
then?  All those shared showers were probably innocent enough. Las Vegas
needed to conserve water, Daddy said. But some of those sounds coming out
of the bathroom when Daddy was showering with Madison that day last month
-- the same kinds of sounds Rusty made with his husband.

Rusty liked the sound of that.  Mr. Biggenstiff was Rusty's husband.

He had to ask.  "Do you and your Daddy `do things'?"

"You mean fuck and suck each other's cocks?  Every chance we get.  I stay
with Daddy every Wednesday night and every other weekend.  And we come here
for four weeks every summer."

Four weeks, Rusty thought.  Mr. Biggenstiff only signed them up for a
chintzy two weeks.  He'd have to speak to him later.

But this boy and his father were doing the nasty things that Rusty and
Mr. Biggenstiff were doing?  Plus fucking?

"Don't be so shocked, Rusty," Benny said.  "Lots of the boys here are here
with their daddies.  Daddy says it's perfectly normal.  Though
father-daughter sex isn't `cause girls can get pregnant."

So what Rusty's Daddy was doing was wrong, but Benny's Daddy was OK?

So much to learn.

"Let's take a walk, Rusty.  I'll show you around."

Rusty hesitated.  "Go ask your husband if it's all right. I won't bite."

Rusty went over to Mr. Biggenstiff.  "I see you're making a new friend.
That's good.  Boys should play with boys their own age."

"But Mr.  Biggenstiff.  Benny wants to walk with me. We're so skimpily
dressed and all the boys are so gay here.  What if he wants to kiss me?  Or
[blush] suck my cock?"

Mr. Biggenstiff chuckled.  "Of course he'll want to kiss you and suck your
cock.  You're the most beautiful boy in the galaxy. If you want him to, let
him do it.  And suck his too, if you want.  Perfectly normal.  Boys should
play with boys their own age."

Rusty's notion of what was "perfectly normal" was evolving rapidly.

Mr. Biggenstiff wasn't one bit jealous of Benny.

Hmmm.

What a strange new world he was in. Better in every way from the world he
came from.

Benny offered Rusty his hand and Rusty took it.  Rusty offered
Mr. Biggenstiff a little toodle-oo wave and the boys were off.

Like Rusty, Benny was practically naked, wearing only a small square of
cloth, front and back, held together by string.  Both boys had pretty
sandals on their feet.

Rusty was a little self-conscious about walking hand-in-hand with another
boy until he saw two of the boys he had seen at dinner the night before.
They were sitting on a bench kissing and stroking each other's cocks most
insistently.

"Morning is usually boy's play time here," Benny explained.  "The men are
usually tired from the night before and appreciate the nap.  We like it
because their balls are recharged when he see them for lunch.  And they
lunch on us."

Rusty blushed.  A culture had evolved in that place.

"I would say that about 40% of the boys are here with their Daddy, an uncle
or a grandfather.  One boy I met last year was here with both his
grandfathers.  Another 40% are here with their `manfriends' or, sometimes,
their husbands, like you.  The other 20% come here boyless and the resort
helps them with that.  At a price."

Rusty had to ask.  "How much is it to stay here?"

"I saw a rate card once.  One week if you bring your own boy is $30,000.
Twice that if they supply the boy.  I think it's cheaper if you stay
longer.  But that includes meals and everything. Even Spermbutt Anal
Lubricant."

"That was the stuff in that movie we saw last night," Rusty blurted out.

Benny giggled.  "You were watching movies instead of fucking?"

Again, a blurt, "But we don't, I mean I don't..."

"You don't fuck?  Why?"

"I'm a virgin. I didn't even suck a cock until yesterday.  And I'm afraid
it'll hurt."

"Of course it hurts.  The first few times.  But even those times are
awesome.  Daddy and I have probably fucked a thousand times.  And I've
given it up to other men too.  Lots of them. Including Mom's boyfriends.
Fucking is the most fun there is.  Don't miss it.  Would you like to fuck
my bum now, just to see what it's like on that end?  I would never fuck you
before your husband did.  That's his thing."

Rusty looked horrified.  "I could never..."

"OK, calm down, Rusty.  Don't worry.  No one does anything on Spermatozoa
that he doesn't want to do.  Would you like to kiss me?  I've been dying to
kiss you since I saw you.  You're so beautiful."

And, without asking for a reply, Benny stepped forward, took Rusty into his
arms and kissed him.  Deep-tongue style.

Rusty practically swooned.  He had had no idea that French kissing another
boy would be so delicious.

Benny was an excellent kisser.

And, as they embraced, Rusty could tell that the kisses had aroused Benny's
beast.

Calling on a reserve of passion he scarcely knew he had, Rusty dropped to
his knees, lifted Benny's swimsquare, and consumed the head of the boy's
five firm inches.

Benny groaned with delight as his new friend showed off his developing
skills.  Benny was soon pumping cream into Rusty's eager mouth and
squealing like the siisyboy he was.

Being a fair-minded person, Benny returned the favor, then they walked
arm-in-arm back to the pool together. Stopping every few paces for some
kissing.

Benny returned Rusty to Mr. Biggenstiff.  "Thank you, Benny," the man
said. "I hope we see you again soon."

Benny said, "Thank you, sir.  Your boywife and I are going to be good
friends.  I hope we see you at one of the sissyboy spunk parties over at
the convention center one night before you go."

OMG!!  Was Benny flirting with Mr. Biggenstiff?  Would Mr. Biggenstiff be
jumping in bed with Benny because Benny liked to fuck and Rusty didn't?

Rusty would scratch Benny's eyes out before that happened.

And what was a sissyboy spunk party?

"We're newlyweds, Benny," Mr. Biggenstiff said.  "I don't think we'll be
attending any sissyboy spunk parties. Unless that's what Rusty wants later
on.  But thanks for the offer.  When are they scheduled?  [As if
Mr. Biggenstiff didn't know the whole spunk party scene by heart.]"

"Every night at 8.  I have to go.  Daddy wants to take me back to our suite
and, you know.  Bye, Rusty."

"Bye."  There was Benny again.  Bragging about getting fucked.  While
Mr. Biggenstiff's boywife wouldn't fuck.  Well, that's changing, Rusty
vowed.

"Did you enjoy your walk with Benny, honey?" Mr. Biggenstiff asked sweetly.

"Oh, yes.  But I think I want to go back to the room now."

No sane man turns that down.

Rusty clung closely to Mr. Biggenstiff all the way back to the room.
Keeping him away from the likes of Benny and their sissyboy spunk parties,
which, now that Rusty thought about it, wasn't that difficult to decipher.

If fucking was what it took to make it in his new world, he would fuck.

Mr. Biggenstiff had barely closed the door behind him when Rusty threw
himself into his man's arms and implored, "Please fuck me!  I want you to
fuck me.  I need it!"

No sane man turns that down either.

Despite being a stickler on cleanliness before sex, Mr. Biggenstiff was a
practical man.  Capable of making a compromise when an opportunity beckons.

It was fucking time.  No bath required.

"Oh, Baby.  I want to make love to you too.  I don't want to hurt you so
we'll go nice and slow, OK?"

Actually, Rusty liked fast.  But he saw the wisdom of Mr.  Biggenstiff's
approach.  There being that rule about trying to fit ten pounds of cock
into a one-pound hole and all that.

"OK," he whimpered sexily.

"Let me just get you good and lubed up with my fingers and this Spermbutt
Anal Lubricant.  There.  How does that feel, Honey?"

It felt great!  Especially when the man slid his fingers over Rusty's
prostate.  Oh.  Did Mr. Biggenstiff just slide in a third finger?  He never
did that before.  That was a stretcher.

Mr. Biggenstiff dilated and lubricated as well as he could.  It was time to
shape his boywife's expectations.  Then fucking time.

"It will hurt the first time, Rusty.  But then it'll feel really good.
I'll stop and let you get used to the stretching.  Just trust me and we'll
get through this first fuck.  Then we can fuck any time we want."

Mr. Biggenstiff lubed up his impossibly excited cock while thinking about
what a great day this was.  Only his eighth virgin.  Each one different.
None as pretty as this one.

He arranged the nude Rusty with three big pillows under his stomach.
Giving Mr. Biggenstiff a magnificent view of the ass he would take as his
own.

When the man thrust in his cockknob and four inches of shaft, he listened
for a scream.

And didn't get it.

The boy was grunting and a bit sweaty.  But not cock-wounded.

"Are you all right, Baby?"

"I think so.  Is there more?"

"About four more inches. Do you want it?"

Rusty sobbed briefly as he contemplated the pain that he was expecting but
hadn't felt.

Rusty was no wimp.  "I want it all.  Give me the whole thing!"

Rusty got his wish.  And his first pain as a result.  But whimper pain.
Not scream pain.

"I'm so proud of you, Rusty," Mr. Biggenstiff said.  "You're a brave young
boy.  Do you like having my cock in your bottom?"

Rusty grunted.

"Is that a yes?"

"Yes.  Please wait a minute until I can stretch."

"That's the plan."

To calm him down, Mr. Biggenstiff reached around Rusty's hip, slid between
the boy's stomach and the pillow and grabbed the boy's half-stiff cock.

Half-stiff in that situation was gold star.  A boy who really loved gay,
man-boy anal sex, to be precise.

Mr. Biggenstiff knew it was time to push and pull when Rusty began to
wiggle his bum. Not to dislodge the man's cock.  To get the man moving.  To
get more cock.

Mr. Biggenstiff moved.

Rusty cried out in lust.

They slid and strained and made the naughtiest noises on earth for a good
23 minutes.  At which time Rusty's balls boiled first.  The anal
contractions of Rusty's orgasm set Mr. Biggenstiff off.  And Rusty's guts
were sperm-drenched for the first time.

Now Rusty knew what he wanted to do with the rest of his life.

When Rusty's ass involuntarily rejected Mr. Biggenstiff's spent cock, Rusty
took it into his sweet mouth, poop juice and all, and sucked it back to a
noble stand.

All the better to fuck Rusty with.

For round two, Mr. Biggenstiff positioned Rusty on his back.  Knees
up. Toes pointed.  The man slid two pillows under the small of the boy's
back to improve his angle, then covered his angel with his body.

Rusty was a helpless sissyboy.  Pinned under a dominant, snorting man.  A
slave to the man's raging lust.

At least that was the way Rusty imagined it.  And he liked thinking that
way.

Mr. Biggenstiff liked sliding his recycled stiffie into Rusty's pootie so
easily that time.

The boy flung his arms and legs around Mr. Biggenstiff and tongue-kissed
his husband all throughout the scorching fuck.

It was a good thing every suite had a defibrillator, Mr. Biggenstiff
thought.

It was an extraordinarily active fuck.

And a full consummation of their marriage.

Except for one detail.

Which was soon cleared up.

As man and boy lay naked in each other's arms.  Chests heaving.  Cocks (and
Rusty's ass) drooling.  Rusty said, "I don't want to call you
`Mr. Biggenstiff' any more.  Can I call you [gulp] `Daddy?'"

Mr. Biggenstiff's heart leapt.  "Of course, my darling."  For the record,
neither of Mr.  Biggenstiff's former boywives had called him Daddy.

Then the frosty, buttercream icing on the best day of both their lives:

"I love you, Daddy!" Rusty said.

Mr. Biggenstiff's eyes filled with tears as he said, "And I love you,
Rusty, my love."

They kissed.

And lived happily ever after.  For three years at least.



I welcome your comments at beautifulcreamer@yahoo.com.

Other stories on Nifty:

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