Date: Sat, 12 Feb 2011 08:45:44 -0800 (PST)
From: Beautiful Creamer <beautifulcreamer@yahoo.com>
Subject: Sissyboy Workout (gay adult-youth)

Sissyboy Workout (gay adult-youth)
By Beautiful Creamer


One -- Manning Up

"I certainly hope you can help my Taylor, Mr. Firmgut," Taylor's mother, Mrs.
Stiffmacher said as she stood by the table in the Stiffmacher kitchen.  "Ever
since his father died, he's been such a wussie.  Please work with him and help
him man up."

Harry Firmgut nodded respectfully.  Privately, he thought, I'm a personal
trainer, not a father figure.

Though he did feel sorry for the fatherless Taylor, who stood behind his mother
as Harry tried get a look at him.

The boy was clearly a wimp.  Nearly eleven years old and hiding behind his
mother's skirts!

"Stop hiding, Taylor," Mrs. Stiffmacher said.  "Mr. Firmgut wants to help you
become a man.  So you won't get bullied in school.  And the girls will quit
laughing at you.  Come out here and say hello to Mr. Firmgut.  Now, Mister!"

Harry tried to look as friendly as he could for Taylor's first look at him.  The
man knew that his large frame and ripped muscles could be intimidating.  He
didn't want to frighten this poor kid.  Just wanted to help him -- for a nice
fee, of course.

Finally, Mrs. Stiffmacher was able to extricate Taylor from her skirts.  And the
whimpering, ridiculously shy boy stood before Harry.  Though looking at his
feet.  Not at Harry.

Harry was getting a bit impatient with the alleged Taylor.  If he really did
exist.  The boy had yet to even look at his new personal trainer.

Slowly, the whimpering boy raised his head and for a fleeting moment, made eye
contact with Harry.

For Harry, that fleeting moment was electric.

Unless Harry's brain was misinterpreting the signals his eyes had generated, the
kid was gorgeous.


The 40-year-old muscle man's first thought was that Taylor looked like the young
Elizabeth Taylor in "National Velvet."  Though with ice-blue eyes, not violet.

Had Mrs. Stiffmacher been lying to him?  Was this "Taylor" really a girl?

Harry stepped forward and gently placed his hand on Taylor's shoulder to calm
him and ease his sobs.  "It's OK, Buddy.  I'm not going to hurt you.  Or
embarrass you.  Your Mom cares about you and she hired me to help you get into
healthier shape.  Healthy's good, right Taylor?"

Taylor decelerated his whimpers, appeared to consider things, then raised his
face.  Looking directly at Harry.

Good gravy!

Harry almost stepped back.

That's how beautiful 11-year-old Taylor Stiffmacher was.

Harry revised his thinking a bit.  Taylor looked more like Demi Moore in "Blame
it on Rio," when she was impossibly young and implausibly beautiful.

Taylor couldn't be a boy.  Not with looks like that.  Or dressed the way he was.

Taylor Stiffmacher was wearing a tight, too-small tshirt and the briefest
workout shorts that Harry had ever seen.

They were almost bikini-like in appearance and may have been a major part of the
reason Taylor was hiding from Harry in the first place.

What mother would let a boy wear something like that?

A drop-dead, fucking gorgeous one in Harry's view.  It was clear where Taylor
got his good looks.  Mrs. Stiffmacher was Demi Moore and Elizabeth Taylor on
their best days, combined.  Plus she had a wasp waist and breasts the size of
footballs.

But no way was Harry making a play for the Widow Stiffmacher.  Mixing it up with
clients was bad for his personal trainer business, despite what everyone seemed
to think about randy women fucking their trainers.

Plus Mrs. Stiffmacher was a woman and he'd had quite enough of them in his life
thus far, thank you.  Harry Firmgut had resolved to stay uninvolved with women
for the foreseeable future.

Back to his investigation of Taylor's alleged masculinity.  Unless the boy had
stuffed two pairs of socks into those bikini gym shorts, he was packing a very
nice package for a boy his size and age.

Curiouser and curiouser.

Another mental flash: did Mrs. Stiffmacher name the kid "Taylor" because of his
resemblance to Elizabeth?

Too much to process.

"I'll be upstairs for a while so you two can get acquainted.  If you decide to
work with Taylor, I'll be very pleased, Mr. Firmgut.  VERY pleased."

Mrs. Stiffmacher then turned, wiggled her butt to the kitchen door, then looked
back over her shoulder at Harry with an expression that said, "That's right.  I
just said, `Man this kid up and you can fuck me.  And you must do what I want;
I'm hot.'"

It didn't take a linguistics expert to translate that.

This was turning into a very interesting morning for Harry Firmgut.

He resolved not to consider breaking his "no-clients, no-women" rule just yet.
There was an evaluation to do.

Again, ridiculously manly Harry tried his best to look warm and friendly to
Taylor.  "Your Mom is a very nice lady, Taylor.  She's just looking out for
you."

Taylor's wet eyes found Harry's and the boy said, "I know, but..."

And the young beauty clammed up.  No matter how many "But whats?" Harry
reflected on Taylor.

New approach. "Would it be OK if you took your shirt off so I can judge your
physical condition a bit better, Taylor?"

A look of terror crossed Taylor's face -- somehow making him even more
beautiful.  That and a loud whimper of fear told Harry that something odd was at
work.  Probably something just beyond that "but" Taylor had never completed.

"It's Ok, Buddy.  "I'm just doing my job.  I won't hurt you or even touch you.
And if you don't like what I do, your Mom is right upstairs."

That seemed to calm the boy a bit.  And made Harry postulate that the boy had
been abused at some point -- perhaps sexually.

Whoever did that to this perfect angel should be cast into the Ninth Circle of
Hell, Harry thought.

True to his word, Harry sat two feet away as Taylor removed his shirt.  Though
he could barely suppress a gasp when he saw the glory of Taylor's upper torso.

Soft, creamy, hairless skin.  Perfect skin.  Warm.  Kissable.

Strike that last part, Harry thought.  Taylor was a boy.  An underage boy.  A
client. And Harry was NOT gay!

But Taylor's nipples were breathtaking!  Not boobies, exactly.  Only the
smallest rise from his chest.  But the boy's nipples were nearly two-inches in
diameter, dark brown and fiercely erect under Harry's gaze.

Good gravy!

Harry squirmed in his seat as his eyes drank in Taylor's shy loveliness.  His
cheeks blazed with embarrassment as he felt his fat cock engorge with hot blood.

Please don't let Taylor notice!  Please don't let Mrs. Stiffmacher walk in now!

Taylor didn't seem to notice.  In fact, he went beyond Harry's request.
Thinking perhaps that an incomplete "fitness review" would do him no good.

The boy quickly slid his gym shorts off and stood before the man in full,
splendid nudity.


Whimpering, of course.  But making little or no attempt to hide his rich assets
from the assessor.

Harry's eyes bugged like the wolf in the Looney Tunes cartoon when he saw the
tarted-up Little Red Riding Hood.

Taylor was slim-hipped and nicely hung.  Fear apparently kept the boy's cock
limp,  But it was a large limp.  Six inches by Harry's inexpert estimate.
Though it looked larger on a 90-pound boy.  The boy's hairless testicle bag
dangled saucily low.

The boy was a 15 on a scale of one to ten!

Girlish beauty, huge nipples, and a huge cock!

Even if the boy's ass were flat and featureless, he would still be...

Harry winced with (mostly) unwanted sexual excitement as the boy turned and
showed Harry the rear view.

It was plump, pink perfection.  Like Taylor's cock, it was disproportionately
large for his boyish frame.


But who's complaining?

Harry stared, wide-eyed at what was clearly one of the Wonders of the World.
More than one Wonder, if you take into account that face, that prick, both
balls, that set of nipples and each bottom cheek.  That would cover Wonders
Eight through Fifteen.  Unless you counted each sweet lip and ice-blue eye...

"...dressed now, Mr. Firmgut?" an angel's voice was saying.

Huh?

Oh.

"Yes, Taylor.  You can get dressed now.  Thanks for cooperating with my, uh,
assessment."

Harry groaned inwardly.   The only way to assess that babydoll properly would be
with a big, stiff cock, Harry thought.  Then abraded himself for being
unprofessional and perverted.

Thank goodness Taylor hadn't been within arms' reach.  He would have had to
explain to the judge, "Your honor, please.  Just look at him.  He was naked,
your honor and we were alone.  What else could I have done?"

Case dismissed for sure, if the judge had at least one palpitating testicle.
But why take that risk?

As Taylor quickly dressed, Harry said, "You appear to be in very good condition,
young man.  You'll need a bit of firming up.  And a bit more self-confidence."

At which point, Harry interrupted himself to picture Taylor's cock fully and
pinkly "firmed up."

Oh!

Harry cleared his throat and said.  "Of course, I'll know better once we start
working together. If that's OK with you."

[Pause]

[Pause]

Please let him say no, Harry thought.  Please don't tempt me like this!

Please let him say yes, Harry thought.  If I don't get my hands on that perfect
boy soon, I'll explode.

Taylor seemed to be thinking carefully.  Evaluating Harry and how he had acted
while Taylor was nude.  Had Harry passed whatever test the boy had concocted?

Apparently so.  "OK, Mr. Firmgut," Taylor said.

Harry beamed with anguished joy.


Two -- The next day.

The following day, Harry took care of his usual slightly sagging housewives at
the large gym where he leased space.  They all seemed to be flirting with him.
Didn't their husbands ever give them any? Or had they all decided that their
husbands weren't worthy?

No matter.  It was all prelude to the arrival of Taylor.

Harry had suggested to Mrs. Stiffmacher that Taylor wear gym gear that was much
less revealing.  She seemed puzzled by Harry's request, but said she would
comply.

Mrs. Stiffmacher dropped Taylor off at the gym at precisely 3:30.  The boy's
workout clothes couldn't be described as conservative, but they didn't say "Rape
me NOW!" like yesterday's scanties.

Harry hustled Taylor back to his area of the gym.  He was concerned about
inflicting neck injuries on the men who were whipping their heads to observe
Taylor's beauty.

Taylor seemed wary, but not as bad as the previous day.  And Harry was able to
take him gradually through a fairly strenuous workout.  Without touching his
delicious body once.

[Sigh}

Harry was impressed that the boy seemed to have some conditioning and ample
stamina.  And he was very docile and cooperative.  Until he told the boy that it
was a good workout and that he should go shower.

Which started the "waterworks" again.

"What's the matter, b..., uh...Taylor?"  Harry asked.  He bit his lip because he had
almost called Taylor "Baby."

"I can't shower with men, Mrs. Stiffmacher," Taylor said.

That was odd.  "Why not?"

Taylor hesitated before answering.  Finally decided to trust Harry by the length
of one millimeter and said, "Daddy said that men were bad.  He said they only
wanted to hurt me and `use' me.  He said that I should run away when a man came
near me. And I loved my Daddy."

Which triggered deep, racking sobs.

Harry felt deep compassion for Taylor.  The poor kid loved his Dad.  Misses his
poor, dead Dad.


But why did his Dad make him so distrustful of men?

He wanted to hug the boy.  Comfort him.  But Taylor was afraid of him.  Afraid
of all men.


Still, it was the right thing to do.  Harry sat and held his arms open for
Taylor.

Taylor wrestled with his demons, then fell into Harry's warm, strong arms.

Harry was in heaven.  Just holding that magnificent, magnificently sweaty boy
was a pleasure beyond measure.  And to think that he trusted Harry enough to
allow it!  That filled Harry's heart.  And engorged his penis.  Which was
involuntary and not his fault, OK?

Man and boy hugged for a good minute and a half.  Harry broke the embrace and
said, "Your Mom will be here soon.  I can't wait to tell her what a good workout
you had.  But you'll need to shower.  You can use the private shower in my
office.  I'll wait out here, OK?"

Taylor smiled in a way that almost made Harry cream his athletic supporter.
Then he hugged Harry again, this time with much more enthusiasm.

Taylor broke that embrace, then scooted off to a private shower, fresh clothing
and a ride home with his Mom.

That "fresh clothing" involved tiny short-shorts, tight tee and flip-flops.

Why did Taylor, who was afraid of men, dress like that?

The next two days were more of the same.  Harry was pleased with Taylor's
progress.  And the hugs that Taylor gave him upon his arrival, departure and any
workout success, however slight.

At the end of the fourth day's workout, Taylor shared a little more with Harry.
"Daddy loved me a lot, Mr. Firmgut.  He told me I was special.  And we did lots
of things together.  Things that made us both feel good."

Which could be anything, right?  They could have been going for ice cream or...

The next statement, "I miss those things, Mrs. Stiffmacher," was followed by the
most seductive look Harry had received in his 40 years on earth.

Harry's ears were hot and his sweat turned cold.

"Daddy always made sure that I was really clean when I took a shower.  Really
clean."

Shower.  Really clean.  Daddy.  What was Harry supposed to do or say?

"Uh, I could help you with that, Taylor.  If you'd like me to."

Taylor flashed Harry his first trillion-watt smile.

Blinding, it was.

And the sweaty boy entered Harry's office/shower room.  With, for the first
time, Harry close behind.

Harry's cock was threatening to rip through both his jock strap and his gym
shorts.

He wasn't mistaken about the context here, was he?  The kid wasn't talking about
something else and would be bringing in a SWAT team on Harry within the half
hour.

No.  It was all pretty clear.

Especially when Taylor began to disrobe.  Sneaking coquettish little peeks at
Harry as he did so.

For the second time in a week, Harry was staring at a buck naked Taylor.  Only
that time, no whimpering was involved.

Instead, "You can't come into the shower and make sure I'm clean when you're
wearing your clothes, Mr. Firmgut.  That's silly."

And there we have it.

Harry stripped.  It was embarrassing.  Besides the fact that he was 40 and the
boy (not girl) was 11.  Harry was fiercely erect.  And his cock was barely
three-quarters longer than Taylor's.  Though thicker.  Much thicker.

From the little ooh and aah gasps Taylor was making, the boy didn't seem
disappointed.

The boy turned and led Harry to the shower.  Showing Harry that spectacular ass
yet again.

As he grabbed shampoo, soap and a wash cloth, Harry felt a little like a man
walking off a cliff


Taylor turned the water on and got the temperature right, then stepped in.
Getting wet.  Waiting for Mr. Firmgut.

Harry got into the shower.  Walking to the precipice's edge.

Harry stood behind Taylor.  Wondering how to begin.

Then finding out.

"Daddy always shampooed my hair first, Mr. Firmgut," Taylor said, without
turning his head.

Well, then.

Harry slid the soap and washcloth into a shower caddy, then squirted an ample
portion of shampoo onto his right hand.

Cautiously, Harry's strong fingers began to rub shampoo into Taylor's lustrous
brown hair.  Taylor tilted his head to give Harry better access and issued a
series of soft, appreciative grunts.

A furiously aroused Harry created a nice lather in the young beauty's hair.
Rubbing.  Caressing each strand of hair.

Then he stepped off the precipice.

Harry stepped forward so that his wet, slick, preposterously erect cock was
rubbing against Taylor's back as Harry shampooed him.

Harry was three-quarters-sure that the boy would run from the shower naked, his
hair lathered up, out of Harry's office, out of the gym and straight to the
local police station.

He was wrong.

Taylor submitted to Harry's patently lewd advance.  Even pushed his body back
against Harry's cock and issued a quite distinctive "Mmmmmm."

Whew!

And for Harry, likewise, "Mmmmmm."

The man's cock was thrilled to be rubbing against the boy's warm, wet back.

The most thrilling thing for Harry was how much Taylor seemed to enjoy Harry's
cock rubbing his vertebrae.  And Harry's fingers in his soapy hair.

Harry took another chance.  He moved his shampoo laden hands from the boy's hair
to his nipples.  The boy actually gasped when Harry rubbed his fully-erect
nipples.  And moaned.

Harry took that as license to proceed.  He began to kiss the side of the boy's
neck as he used his palms to rub Taylor's aroused nipples.

Harry had never been so sexually aroused in his life.

Taylor was equally enflamed.  The man was nice to him.  And gentle.  Not a
snorting beast as Daddy had described all men.

Had Daddy been wrong?

Or was Daddy, and Taylor didn't want to believe it, telling Taylor lies so he
would have Taylor all to himself.

Taylor loved the feel of Mr. Firmgut's cock rubbing his back.  He hadn't had
cock since Daddy died four months earlier.  And Taylor needed cock.

Daddy had been giving Taylor cock since the boy was a very gorgeous nine,

Just Daddy.

Daddy had seen the way men looked at Taylor and Daddy began to tell the boy
cautionary tales about the evil men inflicted on a boy like Taylor.  Taylor
believed him.  But now, with Daddy gone, the boy would have to risk it.

And Mr. Firmgut seemed a good risk.

He wasn't mean or brutal or aggressive or even grabby the way Daddy said men
would be with Taylor.  He hadn't even tried any "sex things" with Taylor.
Taylor had to be the one to suggest things.  Because Taylor NEEDED cock!

The man's hands felt so good on Taylor's nipples.  Would the man take things
further?

Wait.  His hands had left Taylor's nipples.  What?  Oh.  He soaped up a
washcloth and was rubbing it all over Taylor's chest and his nipples.  His belly
button and ...

Oh!

That warm, soapy washcloth was rubbing his cock and his balls.  So good!

Harry was delighted at the license that Taylor had given him.  But was still
terrified that he would make a false move and lose the boy.  Or anger him so
that he ratted Harry out.

But he just had to feel the boy's cock and balls.

They were so beautiful.  And the seat of the boy's arousal.

He used a washcloth at first.  Rubbing.  Soaping.  Arousing the boy in obvious
ways.

Then Harry dropped the washcloth and began to manipulate the boy's cock with his
huge, hairy, loving hand.


Harry had never touched a cock other than his own.  But he knew what felt good
when he touched himself. So he began to pull the boy's foreskin up and down.
Sweetly.  Kissing Taylor's neck as he masturbated him expertly.

Taylor was thrilled.  Mr. Firmgut was better at "prickie-tickles" than Daddy had
been.  Though it wasn't fair to compare them at that early stage of his love
affair with Mr. Firmgut.  And maybe Taylor thought Mr. Firmgut was better at
masturbation because Taylor was flamingly randy.

Taylor was feeling sweet little rumbles in his gut.  Getting more insistent.
Closer.


The boy turned his head over his right shoulder and the man covered the boy's
mouth with his own.

Tongues!

Heat!

Taylor's balls erupted.  Shooting hot cream in thick arcs.  Covering the man's
fingers.  The boy squealed with joy.

And that triggered Harry's own pleasure.

The man grunted and shuddered through the best orgasm he could ever remember.
Just from the friction against Taylor's back. And the pleasure of pleasing
Taylor.

Hot man juices scorched Taylor's back.

When Harry had spurted his last, Taylor turned and stood face to face with
Harry.  Harry grabbed the boy's pink buns with both hands and lifted Taylor's
face to the level of his own.  Spent cocks rubbing together.  Kissing deeply.
Hungrily.

For the first time in his life, Harry was in love!  Taylor was working on it,
but halfway there.

Harry didn't want to be the grown-up, but knew that in ten minutes, Mrs.
Stiffmacher would be there to collect her son.  She probably would be displeased
if she found Taylor in the shower with Harry.  Naked and maybe even [blush]
fucking.

Taylor pouted a little, but got to it.

They both dried off quickly and got dressed.

In previous days, Harry had always given Taylor privacy when the boy got
dressed.  But that time, he saw the boy put on panties!

Panties!!

Daddy had always told Taylor that the prettiest boys always worn panties.  And
Taylor loved pleasing Daddy.  Taylor and his mother actually shopped for
panties, which Taylor found odd.  Did Mom know about what Taylor and Daddy were
doing?  Everything they were doing?

Being in the room with Taylor.  Watching the boy put on panties.  Harry was
rock-stiff again.


Should he and Taylor...?

No.

Not yet.

Harry and Taylor kissed goodbye that Thursday.  Deeply.  With an implied promise
of further pleasures the next afternoon.

Harry trembled with lust and fear as he watched Taylor get into Mrs.
Stiffmacher's car.



Three -- And the next day

To the uninformed onlooker, Taylor acted "normally" when he showed up for
personal training that Friday afternoon.

Normal for Taylor was shy and timid.

Which Taylor still showed to the world, but not to his new love, Mr. Firmgut.

The uninformed onlooker would also notice that Taylor was dressed in a fashion
that would scorch the retinas of all male onlookers, informed or not.

The young beauty was wearing the same outfit he wore when he met Harry.  Workout
shorts that would be illegal on many beaches and a tshirt that could not be
described with an upper-case T.

His manner toward his trainer was respectful, of course.  And eager for physical
achievement.

In all its forms.

That same observer, if sharp-eyed, would note that Harry looked a bit frazzled.
Eyes reddened from lack of sleep.  Perhaps a bit off his game that day.

Yet, Harry had a happy and expectant look about him as well.

Moments after his arrival, Taylor said to Harry, "Oh, Mr. Firmgut.  I'm so
sorry, but I need to pee before we begin today.  Would that be all right?"

That innocent question was followed by a look so sexy that it would melt steel.

Harry agreed, of course, and watched Taylor take two steps away from him, then
look over his beautiful, creamy shoulder and say, "Daddy would help me pee
sometimes.  He would hold it for me while I tinkled."

Harry gasped.

At which point, Taylor took two more steps away, looked back over the other
shoulder and said, "We both liked that a lot.  It was fun."

And then Taylor sauntered toward Harry's private bathroom.  With Harry close
behind.  Eager for "fun."

Taylor went into the bathroom, pulled his workout shorts and pink [Pink!]
athletic supporter down to his ankles and held his cock to pee.'

The boy gave an actual gasp of surprise when Harry came up behind him and
replaced the boy's hand with his own.

Harry hadn't yet gotten nearly as well acquainted with Taylor's cock as he would
have liked.  So he adored the opportunity to manually explore its wonders as the
boy tried to pee.  Which, as we know, gets more difficult as one's arousal
increases.

The boy was three-quarters stiff when he was finally able to give up his urine.
Which reduced accuracy.  A lot.


But Harry didn't mind.

He shook as many of the last pee drops as he could from the boy's darling penis,
then picked the boy up, carried him into his office and sat him on his desk.

Harry sat in his desk chair, slid it between Taylor's willingly spread legs and
took the boy's now fully erect penis into his mouth.  Lingering pee drops and
all.

It was a completely unpremeditated move, born of the passion that was burning
his brain.

Taylor, who had never been fellated by anyone but his late Daddy, was delighted.

Daddy had been a better cocksucker, Taylor concluded.  But give Mr. Firmgut
time.  He showed great promise.  And excellent tongueage.

Oh dear.

Taylor didn't want to spunk that quickly.  But maybe it was for the best.  What
with all those drooling busybodies in the gym.

The boy half-warned his man.  He wanted to say, "I'm going to shoot my cream
now, Mr. Firmgut.  So if you don't want a mouthful..."  But all he managed to say
was "Unnnnhhhh."

Which was perfectly all right.

Harry hadn't planned to swallow Taylor's sperm either.  But he did so.  With
great gusto.

Taylor would have loved to have reciprocated for Mr. Firmgut, but those envious
busybodies would have been calling the cops or something.

So they kissed a little.  And Taylor said, "That was awesome, Mr. Firmgut.  Can
I do it for you after our workout?"

Which gave Harry the will to live for another 72 minutes.

The workout was its usual strenuousness and unlike previous workout sessions,
Taylor allowed, welcomed actually, Harry's touches on his beautiful body as the
man corrected and instructed.

He also gave Harry several balls-stirring looks that made the man stop the
workout fifteen minutes early.  He got no argument from Taylor.

Both lovers were hot and sweaty when they entered Harry's office and locked the
door.

Rather than go to the shower immediately, Harry stripped Taylor naked, then
himself.  He sat Taylor onto his lap and consumed the boy with naked, tonguey
kisses.

Taylor kissed back.  And grabbed Harry's stiff cock.  Exploring it as they
tongued each other's inner mouths.


Harry's cock was smaller than Daddy's.  And not quite as thick.  Which was
knowledge Taylor should probably keep to himself.

Harry was eager to suck Taylor's cock to creamy completion again, but Taylor
would have none of it.  He got onto his knees between Harry's legs and began to
administer the kind of blowjob men only dream of.

Hot, wet kisses all over the man's skinned knob had Harry breathing fire.  The
boy's tongue knew how to enflame the "arrowpoint" on the underside of his man's
rammer.  And, with all the arousal and anticipation, Harry could only hold back
for 14 minutes and 12 seconds.  At which time he gave Taylor his "sissyboy's big
reward."

All over that beautiful face.

Which to Harry, had never been more beautiful.

Imagine seeing your cum all over the face of a boy worthy of "Little Mr. Sissy
Boy 2011," from the magazine of the same name.

It was wildly exciting.

Had Harry had a stiffie at that moment, he was still so sexed up that he might
have tried to RAPE the boy's bottom.  Which would have been cruel, vile and
inappropriate.  Let alone probably impossible.

Thank goodness he didn't, Harry later thought.  The boy would have never
forgiven him.  Which would have been a four-star disaster.

Instead, Harry made good on his original intention.  He had Taylor stand as he
sat, then gave as good as he got with his mouth adoring Taylor's penis, with one
very nice twist.

Harry couldn't help exploring as he sucked Taylor's sweet stiffie.  He caressed
the boy's pink globes, then, on an erotic whim, he rubbed his finger all along
the inner folds of the boy's bottom, then the boy's wrinkled anus.

And got a reaction that startled him.

Taylor squeaked.  A happy squeak.  Not a "Leave my asshole alone, you pervert"
squeak.

Interesting.

So Harry pushed his luck.

He slid his finger into the boy's ass.  Inside him.  Deeply.  And wiggled it
around.

Taylor screamed as if he were being axe-murdered, then saturated Harry's mouth
with a cream load far beyond the powers of mortal boy.

Apparently, Taylor liked a finger inside his bum as his cock was being
worshiped.


Good to know.

Taylor was panting and gasping from the force of his erotic fury when he pulled
his cock from Harry's mouth and bent over to consume the man with grateful
kisses.

Taylor felt whole again.

He was with a man who loved him and did those "Daddy things" he loved.



Four -- Friday Night at the Stiffmachers

Harry waved a sad goodbye to Taylor as the boy left the gym to meet his mother.

After the serial suckoff, they had enjoyed another erotic shower where the soapy
toyings had emptied all four of their balls quite nicely.  Harry's discovery
that Taylor liked, make that loved, anal play as they kissed and caressed was a
lovely enhancement to the proceedings.

But Taylor wouldn't be back for a training session until Monday.  Nearly 70
hours later!  How would Harry survive?

He was in such a funk that he almost didn't answer his cell phone. But he looked
and saw that it was...oh no...Mrs. Stiffmacher!!

Had Taylor told her?  Was she coming back with a battalion of National Guardsmen
to hunt down and kill Harry?

He couldn't answer it.  He had to, with a very weak, "Hello?"

"Oh, Mr. Firmgut," Mrs. Stiffmacher said. "I'm so happy I was able to get you.
First, let me tell you how grateful I am for what you've done for my Taylor so
far.  He's been much happier, has much more self-confidence and is much more
like when his Daddy was alive.  You've been a great influence on him and I owe
you."

Harry breathed a relived sigh, then said something equivalent to "Shucks,
Ma'am.  `Tweren't nuthin'"

Wait.  Was Mrs. Stiffmacher making that offer of her body again?

Ick.

Harry didn't want her body.  He wanted Taylor's body.  Every minute of the day.

Mrs. Stiffmacher continued.  "The second reason I'm calling is that Taylor tells
me that you volunteered to babysit him sometime when I have to go out
for...uh...social reasons.  I think you two get along very well and that you would
be a great babysitter.  I mean, I'd pay you of course.  If you would really like
that.  Sometime."

Wow!

Taylor cooked that all up by himself, didn't he?

Who exactly was Harry making love to here?

Still, alone in the house with Taylor!  Oh!

"Sure, Mrs. Stiffmacher.  I'd be happy to babysit Taylor.  Anytime."

"Oh, do you mean that, Mr. Firmgut?  Do you really mean that?  Because I have
kind of an emergency.  You see a colleague and I have a work thing tonight.
He's picking me up in an hour and my babysitter is sick.  I hate to ask you like
this, but..."

Harry thought.  A colleague, eh?  A work thing.  HE's picking her up.

Fishy.

But who cared?

If Harry said yes, he'd be alone with Taylor.  In a house.  Not just Harry's
office and shower.

"Sure, Mrs. Stiffmacher.  I'd be glad to help you out.  What's the address
again?"

One hour later, Harry knocked on the door, to be admitted by a gorgeously
dressed and perfectly made-up Mrs. Stiffmacher, who gave him a cheek kiss of
gratitude, then showed him where everything was and kissed him again on the
cheek as the doorbell rang.

Where was Taylor?

"Taylor's upstairs.  He won't come down while my colleague's here.  Still afraid
of men, except for you.  I must thank you `properly' when things calm down."

Another offer he would have to refuse.

But moments later, a car pulled up and Mrs. Stiffmacher hustled out the door and
got into it.

And Harry and Taylor were alone in the house until "At least eleven," as Mrs.
Stiffmacher had said.

Now where wast the boy?

"I'm in my room, Mr. Firmgut," Taylor's sweet voice said.  "Second door on the
right.  I didn't come downstairs because of the looks Mom's boyfriends always
give me.  Makes me feel like a slab of meat.  You never looked at me like that."

Harry's heart throbbed and his cock stiffened as he climbed the stairs.

He went to the second door on the right and saw Taylor.

Though not the Taylor he was used to seeing.

This Taylor was lying on his double bed, on his back, wearing a baby-blue
babydoll nightie made of spun sugar and icing-like ruffles.  The sheer mesh body
was adorned with rows of ruffles at the hem and had lace cups, all wrapped up in
a pretty satin bow.


"Daddy gave me this.  He liked when I wore it.  I have others too.  Do you like
it?"

In answer, a perilously aroused Harry took his clothing off.  All of it.  And
joined the well-dressed Taylor on the bed.

A real bed.

Alone with Taylor for at least four more hours.

Would Harry survive it?

On the way over to the Stiffmachers, Harry sorted out his feelings about fucking
Taylor.

He wanted to fuck Taylor very much.

Duh.

But he didn't want to scare Taylor.  Or hurt him in any way.

Still.  The boy seemed quite anally oriented.

And fucking seemed to be the natural outcome of the path they were racing down.

But enough thinking.

Harry lay next to Taylor and lifted his nightie just high enough to expose those
nipples.

Oh, those nipples.

How did Harry get so lucky?

Taylor was thinking the same thing as he quivered in anticipation.

The nice man was going to kiss his nipples and make hot steamy love to him.
Just as Daddy did.

But the nipples had to wait.

Harry let Taylor see that he was licking his middle finger.  Then, with a bit of
flourish, he entered the boy's anus and went directly to the sweet boy's
prostate.

Taylor yelped. A noise that Harry could have muffled with a kiss.  Instead, he
chose to lick and suck Taylor's nipples as he tormented his prostate.

Taylor ejaculated.

Quite helplessly.

Quite copiously/

Quite enthusiastically.

Quite gratefully.

It was official.  Taylor was in love.

And his lover was licking up all of the boy's creamy spendings.  Even the little
cum puddle in his "innie."

Mr. Firmgut was very oral!  Just as Daddy was.

And the man knew that Taylor was very anal.

Thus...

Harry took his first, tentative lick of Taylor's anus.

He took Taylor's guttural moan as a vote of confidence.

So he pressed on.  Digging his tongue into the tasty passage as far as he could
in that sub-optimal position with the boy on his back, knees up.

Harry withdrew, lay on his back and said, "Sit on my face, Baby.  I'll eat your
pussy until you shoot again."

One didn't have to tell Taylor something like that twice.  The boy straddled
Harry's shoulders, facing the man's feet.  He lowered his lickable bottomhole
onto Harry's mouth and reveled in the sodomistic delights.

Taylor loved analingus.  Daddy was really good at it, but Mr. Firmgut showed
great promise.


When Daddy "ate" Taylor, the boy always believed that the next step would be
Daddy's cock in his pussyhole.


But Daddy disappointed Taylor every time.  "I'm too big for you, Sweetie," Daddy
would say.  "We'll try it on your twelfth birthday," which to an 11-year-old kid
was an eon away.

Taylor would be 12 in two weeks.  So whatever wisdom Daddy had about waiting
until Taylor was older before he was fucked would pretty much apply.  Right?

The real problem, Taylor knew, was Daddy's size.  Like his young, hung son,
Daddy was a very big man.  Nearly ten inches.  And thick!

Much bigger that Mr. Firmgut.  Though Taylor knew to keep that to himself.

So Taylor was pretty sure that when Mr. Firmgut had soaked his hole, he'd be
ready for his first fucking.  But would Mr. Firmgut want to do that?

Taylor was squealing and nearly squirting when he leaned over to share his joy
by sucking Mr. Firmgut's cock as the man "ate his supper."

But Mr. Firmgut stopped him.  "Don't suck my cock, Baby," the man grunted.  "I'm
saving that stiffie for your boypussy."

Well.

Taylor shuddered with fear and lustful anticipation.  A combination which
assaulted his balls and made him shoot a second creamy load into the man's thick
chest hair.

Both of which pleased Harry.  Who had decided to fuck the boy without asking
permission.


Answering the question of who was the man, who was in charge.

As the boy shuddered and spunked, Harry replaced his tired tongue with three
aggressive fingers.  Opening the tiny hole as he alerted the prostate that it
would soon be hosting a new friend.

Harry was 90% sure that the boy had been fucked before.  Anyone who could flirt
like that boy had to have given it up.

But when he saw the fear in the boy's face as he placed him onto his back and
slid three pillows under his hips, he lowered that to 25% sure.

"I'm going to fuck you now, Honey."

No permission asked.  But Harry was still comforted by Taylor's small nod of
acceptance.

Harry lined up his cock with Taylor's "wrinkles."  Teasing it a little with his
drooling peelips.  Making the boy hotter and hotter with fear and sexual
hunger.

Taylor had to say it.  "Mrs. Stiffmacher, I never..."

Wow.  Down to 10% sure that Taylor had "done it" before.

Which dropped to 0% when Harry found how tight the boy was.

The boy squirmed as Harry stretched the boy's opening with the full knob of his
cock.

Taylor gave a sharp scream when Harry pushed three inches of cockshaft into the
magnificent furnace.  Harry hesitated a bit, to let Taylor get used to the
feel.  Then he pushed in the rest.

A slightly sharper squeal that time.  But no one reached for the phone to call
911.

"It's so big and hot and hard, Mr. Firmgut," Taylor said.  "I love it inside
me.  You can move it back and forth now if you want.  Please."

Harry Firmgut was having the best Friday night of his life.

Harry fucked the boy he loved with skill and ardor.

Taylor was shocked at the pleasure of a big cock on his prostate.  Better than
anything ever.  Better than anything he had done with Daddy.

Harry and Taylor kissed as they fucked.  Which made it even nicer.  And when
Harry lost control of his sperm reserves, Taylor felt the raw joy of a hot anal
drenching.

When their starship landed, Taylor sucked Harry's poopy cock to a second stand.
Which led to a second, doggy-style enjoyment of each other.

Which was followed by a little rest.

It was 9 o'clock when the phone rang.  They only answered it because it was Mrs.
Stiffmacher.  Was she home early?  Pulling into the driveway?

Harry felt a surge of fear, but Taylor was quite calm.

Hmmmm.

Taylor answered the phone.  "Hi, Mom.  Um-hum.  Yeah.  Everything's fine.  Yes,
it was just like you said.  OK."

Taylor handed Harry the phone.  "She wants to talk to you."

Harry was beginning to suspect that maybe all had not been as it seemed.

He took the phone.  "Hello, Mrs. Stiffmacher."

"Oh, Mr. Firmgut.  I'm so delighted that you and Taylor are getting along so
well.  Thank you again.  Say, I know this is way too much to ask, but this work
meeting has turned into a weekend management retreat.  Completely
spur-of-the-moment.  I'll call Taylor's grandmother if you can't do it, but
would it be possible for you to stay with Taylor the rest of the weekend?  I'll
be home on Sunday by six.  I promise."

What, no implied promise of hetero sex anymore?

Harry had been set up.  He was 99.999% sure of that.  But he wasn't complaining.

"No problem, Mrs. Stiffmacher.  Taylor and I will find something to do.   Enjoy
your retreat."


With that guy who picked you up.  The one you wore that little, black minidress
for.

Mrs. Stiffmacher thanked Harry again and again.  Then hung up.  Presumably to
get a bit of what Harry and Taylor were going to be getting for the next 45
hours.

Was Taylor in on the scam?

Who cared?

"I think I'm hard again, Baby," Harry said.

"Oh, goodie," Taylor said.  And he lay on his belly with his bottom up.





I welcome your comments at beautifulcreamer@yahoo.com.

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