Date: Wed, 27 May 2009 10:11:32 -0700 (PDT)
From: Beautiful Creamer <beautifulcreamer@yahoo.com>
Subject: Try Boys 5

Try Boys 5
By Beautiful Creamer

One -- Guarding the Wall

As far as Mr. Dick Pohl, principal of Hardman Elementary School was
concerned, the barbarians were at the gates, and he was just about the only
gatekeeper still standing.

The "Try Boys" movement had gone way beyond grabbing a foothold in the
psyche of American males. The movement was sitting on the summit.  In a
recliner.  Drinking brewskis and throwing rocks at anybody climbing up to
knock the movement off its commanding perch.

Millions of American men had decided that they were, in fact, "tired of the
nagging, the manipulation and the emasculation" they had been getting from
women all their lives and were "trying" boys.

Lots of boys.

So many boys being "tried" by so many men that "suitable," willing boys
were in shorter and shorter supply.

To expand the numbers of boys, one would have to either expand the
definition of "suitable" or the definition of "willing."

The great majority of men were not willing to amend "willing."  Forcing
themselves on boys was a dishonorable, disgusting nonstarter.

But the basic laws of supply and demand dictated that the men examine the
concept of "suitable."

Hairy, ultra-butch, deep-voiced, older boys, well into puberty, were not
desired by most men attracted to the Try Boys movement.  So "going older,"
in most cases, was not seen as a fertile option.

However, standards of boyish beauty were, within reason, negotiable.  Men
were beginning to accept that every boy they lured to their beds didn't
have to be a beauteous specimen of puerile, pulchritudinous perfection.

Though basic prettiness still mattered.

All that being said, it was becoming clear that the best option for
boy-pool expansion was "going younger."

Which was approached, even by the randiest of Try Boys converts, with
varying amounts of shame and guilt.

Necessity, raw sexual necessity made it happen anyway.

As in many sissyboy matters of great gravity, "Sissy Boy" magazine led the
way in the cultural shift.

If you're a collector of "Sissy Boy" back issues, you'll remember that in
the magazine's early days, some five years earlier, one could see that most
of the boy "models" appeared to be aged late 13, early 14 or so.

Billionaire publisher Biff Buggerall kept the age a bit higher than he
would have preferred because of his concern (and his lawyers' panic) that a
magazine showing vivid, four-color, glossy photos of naked, muscular, hairy
men kissing, fucking and sucking every available body part of naked,
sissyish, spurting 14-year-old boys might, just might, cause a stir in the
culture and the courts.

Well, as everyone not living in a cave knows, there was a stir all right,
but it was a stir in the testicles of the millions of men who bought Sissy
Boy, first monthly, then bi-weekly.

The magazine became mainstream, so much so that it was even sold in
supermarket checkout lines.  Biff Buggerall was practically printing money.
And fucking every one of his models, the world's prettiest 13- and
14-year-old sissyboys.

And all was well.  For a while.

Until competition emerged.

Lots of competition.

Sleazy, icky competition like "Little Faggot" magazine, which depicted
skinny, pimpled-all-over, undernourished, Eastern European boys fucking
each other in sad-looking bedrooms with bad lighting and ugly wallpaper.

It was a wonder that, with classy, formulaically erotic "Sissy Boy"
available, anyone would buy a magazine like "Little Faggot."  But about a
million men bought each issue -- one-quarter of Sissy Boy's sales at that
time.

Worse were the letters to "Sissy Boy" headquarters.  "Your boys are so
beautiful, but why are they so old? I'm tired of looking at pubic hair in
my pederastic smut.  Why don't you get some 12-year-olds like "Little
Faggot" does?"

Good question.  Publisher Buggerall eventually agreed, believing that the
risk was worth the reward.

The next issue contained two "pictorials."  One with the usual 13- and
14-year-olds and one that was a 12th-birthday party that evolved into a
spunk-filled session of spin-the-bottle.

Five million copies were sold that issue.  And six the next, as "Little
Faggot" disappeared from history.

Waves of congratulations and compliments flooded "Sissy Boy."  And all was
well.

For 18 months.

Until "Eleven" magazine appeared, featuring some of the world's most
delicious 11-year-old angels, all of whom could spurt thick ropes of sweet
boy's cream onto each other and the men who adored him.

Buggerall adapted yet again.  Eleven-year-old spurters became the norm for
his magazine and sales climbed to seven million.

And all was well.

Until the Try Boys movement.  Which some "insiders" claim was a Biff
Buggerall initiative.  An attribution that Buggerall has denied, both
publically and privately.  To friends, he is reputed to have said, "Why
would I want to start something like that?  Men buy "Sissy Boy" because
they want sissyboys and aren't `getting any.'  When they're fucking their
dream boys, why would they want to look at pictures of it?"

Plausible?  Seems to be.  Though sales of "Sissy Boy" have continued to
increase during the Try Boys era.

The Try Boys movement and the boy shortage seemed to put pressure on
Buggerall to lower the age limit of his pretty models yet again.

Which he resisted.  Not necessarily for moral reasons.

"How can I find that many ten-year-old spurters?" he is said to have asked
associates.

Thinking it through a bit more, however, Buggerall decided to send up a
test balloon.

In the annually anticipated, "One Hundred Creamy Cuties" issue, Buggerall
added 30 pages free of charge.  "10-10-10" the cover teaser promised, with
a subhead, "Ten Ten-Year-Old Perfect Tens."

The randily curious bought 12 million copies of that issue (at $39.99) and
they were not disappointed.

The ten gorgeous ten-year-old boys that Buggerall selected for that
historic pictorial were awesomely spectacular.  Drawn from the "watch this
boy for later" files of the "Sissy Boy" talent scouts worldwide, it
displayed preteen beauty in its finest, purest form.

Perhaps "pure" wasn't the right word.

In the "10-10-10" pictorial, each boy was well-fucked by a large-cocked
man.  And his pretty, often-freckled, smiling face was frosted by a man's
thick cum ropes.

None of the boys spunked in any picture.

Which was why Buggerall held his breath awaiting reader response.

By rough count, 287,634 respondents reported that they had wanked so many
times reading "10-10-10" that they had to ice down their testicles, yet
begged for "More ten-year-olds!  More!"  Five respondents liked "10-10-10,"
but wanted to see the boys spunk.  No one condemned Buggerall and his ilk
to perdition.

Buggerall had his mandate.

And Principal Pohl had his territory to defend.


Two -- Contemporary Schools

Principal Pohl didn't like what was happening in his and other American
elementary schools, but there were forces far behind his control at work.

His only consolation was that, ever since his state's age of consent for
boys had been lowered to eleven (still 18 for girls, who could still get
pregnant), middle schools, AKA junior high schools, were truly the Wild
West.

The American middle school educates children from 6th to 8th Grades, ages
of about late 11 to early 14...the period of rushing hormones and peak
smartaleckness.

Principal Pohl's best friend, Fred Hungwell, who was the principal at
Dribbler Middle School eight blocks north of Hardman Elementary School, had
been fighting a losing battle with "Change."  Sadly, in Principal Pohl's
assessment, his best friend was considering surrender.

"I tell you, Dick, it's crazy," Principal Hungwell said.  "Every day after
school, the men are lined up to pick up their `dates.'  They kiss the boys
right there, just as they leave school grounds and even slip their hands
inside the boys' shorts as they're tongue-kissing.  Then they take them off
to lovenests somewhere, or who knows where?  I know they fuck my pretty
students and the boys suck their cocks.  But what can I do about it?  The
law these days is on the pervs' side.  I miss the old days when the pervs
would take a boy to a filthy, public bathroom and degrade and fuck him
inside its smelly confines.  The way things should be.

"And my teachers!  Every one of them is fucking at least three of their
students.  Legally!  Off school property, of course, but for how long will
even that last?

Principal Pohl nodded in empathy.  He had heard it all before from
Principal Hungwell. But it was still poignant.

At least his best friend still stood for what was right.  But for how long?

Principal Hungwell went on.  "Confession time, Dick," Principal Hungwell
said.  Principal Pohl winced.  Had his friend...?

"Some trends you can ignore.  Or buck," Principal Hungwell said.  "But not
this one.  I'm human, Dick.  And those little junior-high cockteasers have
been wiggling their pretty bums at me for 22 years.  I resisted just fine
for a long time, though I have to admit that I `spilled my seed' a few
hundred times dreaming about some of them.  Now that it's legal, the boys
are walking right up to me and asking me to take them home.  Pretty boys.
Gorgeous boys.  I tried to resist, Dick.  I really did.  But just last
week, this boy named Clay batted his eyes at me and I took him into my
office and fucked him within an inch of his life.  It was fantastic!  Best
thing that ever happened to me.  And I've had a different boy every day
since.  Did I mention that I'm only human?  You understand, Dick?  Don't
you?"

Principal Pohl absolutely did NOT understand.  His former friend was a
"heretic" as far as he was concerned.

The law may not care about Principal Hungwell's morality anymore, but Dick
Pohl certainly did.

The discussion ended abruptly.  Principal Hungwell seemed hurt at the lack
of empathy from his friend.  But knew he could seek comfort in the naked
arms of Tyler Bonemey, a delicious seventh-grader whose parents had agreed
to let spend that night with Principal Hungwell.

The righteous Principal Pohl sought comfort in his righteousness.

As the righteous do.

Though even the most righteous righteousness has its challenges.

While Hardman Elementary was no pit of perversity, changing laws and
declining morality were having an impact.

Principal Pohl's school educated boys and girls from kindergarten through
fifth grade, roughly ages five through age early- and mid-eleven.

The key number being eleven.  Eleven-year-old fifth-graders.  Eighteen of
them by Principal Pohl's count.  In this depraved era -- they were legal!
And another 26 ten-year-old fifth graders and 20 ten-year-old fourth
graders!

Ten wasn't "legal."  Not yet, anyway.  And, Principal Pohl prayed it never
would be.  But the so-called "authorities" were not very vigilant about
such niceties these days.  And that filthy magazine "Sissy Boy" was openly
promoting pederasty with ten-year-olds.

A disaster waiting to happen as far was Principal Pohl was concerned. Or
was already happening.


Three -- Hard men at Hardman

Mr. Pohl couldn't expect much support from his faculty on his
anti-pederasty campaign.

The six male teachers in his school had become uncharacteristically happy
over the past year or so.  With few or no complaints emanating from six men
who once took complaining to an art form.

They didn't even complain about their meager salaries anymore and had
recently insisted on signing five-year, teaching contracts with no planned
salary raises.

Which was also completely out of character from men who had once claimed
that they were paid so little that they had to reuse paper napkins and
could rarely afford hamburger.

Mr. Pohl began to suspect that something "improper" was afoot.

As principal, Mr. Pohl held regular "morality" training with his faculty.
The women teachers usually dozed.  The men just smiled serenely at their
principal as he preached abstinence from boys.

Still, while Mr. Pohl could control most of what happened within the
school, at 3 p.m. every day, bad things had a will of their own.

The area in a one-block radius from school had become was routinely filled
with men.  Chatting up the Hardman Elementary boys.  Flirting with them.
The boys flirting back.  Connections made, many man-boy couples went off,
hand-in-hand to sordid trysts.

As if that weren't bad enough, Mr. Pohl had personally observed that it
wasn't just 11-year-old Hardman boys hooking up.  Or even 10-year-olds.
Younger boys were [gasp] being led off to filthy perversion.

Mr. Pohl reported all this to the police, of course.  And they promised to
maintain solid vigilance.  Which, Mr. Pohl learned, usually involved a
police car parked in the "Flirty Zone" every day after school.  With the
policemen flirting with the boys as flirtily as the other men.  And young
boys being driven off in the police car to further perversions.

Mr. Pohl got no help from his School Board.  Oh no.  They just told him to
"chill out."  And "get a life."  Using stupid, outdated, 1990s catch
phrases to gloss over the biggest crisis in education in world history.

The School Board members were probably fucking the boys too.

So there Mr. Pohl was.  Surrounded by actual "enemies."  Without the
comfort of paranoia.

Sitting in his office an hour after his conversation with the heretical
Principal Hungwell. Mr. Pohl looked at the "old-school" paddle hanging on
his wall -- a joke gift presented to him when he became principal ten years
earlier.  Never used, of course.

Maybe that was a good part of the current "problem."  Maybe he needed to
step up discipline, rather than dampen it.  Put a little fear of authority
back in the mix.

Maybe.

As Mr. Pohl was musing about swatting a slutty boy's bottom with that
wooden, perforated paddle, his door opened and he saw his secretary, Miss
Spinster.

Miss Spinster was perhaps Mr. Pohl's last ally at Hardman.  Having never
experienced sex herself, she couldn't imagine why anyone would want or need
it.  So she was 100% with Mr. Pohl on his "stamp out boysex" campaign.

"That little felon Tommy Pertbutt is here, Mr. Pohl.  His teacher, Miss
Bigjuggs sent him to you for violating the school policy on `bling'
jewelry."

Mr. Pohl sat up at attention.  At last. An opportunity for discipline.
Perhaps an offense worthy of the paddle.  The first shot in the
counterattack on immorality.

"Send him in, please, Miss Spinster."

Tommy walked into Mr. Pohl's office.  Shyly.  Timidly.

Mr. Pohl had two thought when he saw the fearful lad.  1) This one could
even respect authority.  If so, no need to paddle him.  Rats.  And 2) Tommy
is a VERY beautiful boy!  An eleven-year-old fifth grader.  Tons of red
curls.  An angelic face, masked with cute freckles.  And a...what was that?

Tommy Pertbutt was wearing an ultra-delicate gold chain which displayed, at
his kissable throat, one word in 24-carat script: "Sissyboy!"

Sissyboy?!?!?!?

In his school??!?!?

Blatantly advertising his perversity to all?!?!?!?!?

Twin snort of flame shot from Mr. Pohl's nostrils.

"What is this?" Mr. Pohl shouted.  Scaring the boy and making him step back
sharply.

No answer from the boy, though tears formed in his beautiful, green eyes.

More calmly that time, Mr. Pohl repeated the question: "What is this?"

Tommy blubbered out, "It's a necklace, sir."

"I know that, Mr. Pertbutt," Mr. Pohl shouted.  Making the boy sob in fear.
"Why are you wearing it?"

Tommy had to take a few moments to collect himself, but then he answered.
"My Daddy gave it to me."

This was worse than Mr. Pohl thought.  His FATHER was a partner in
perversion with this poor angel?  A soiled angel by all appearances now.

Mr. Pohl took a breath, and had to ask, "Did your father `make' you a
sissyboy, Mr. Pertbutt?"

Tommy had to think a moment about that question, but then appeared to catch
its meaning and answered proudly, "Oh, yes sir.  Daddy `makes me a
sissyboy' every night.  And daytimes too, on the weekends."

Mr. Pohl gasped.  So this was where we were these days.  Boys proudly
admitting that their fathers were fucking their pretty bottoms.

This boy is a victim, Mr. Pohl decided.  And should be treated as such..
He should call child services.  Right after the boy removes that
advertisement for perversion.

"I'm sorry for your situation, Tommy.  Hand me that necklace and I'll start
getting you some help."

Tommy looked puzzled.  "But, Mr. Pohl.  I don't need any help.  And I can't
give you my necklace."

A short burst of anger pricked Mr. Pohl.  Trying to be calm, he asked, "Why
can't you give me that necklace?"

Tommy smiled.  It was a magnificent smile.  "I promised Daddy I'd never
take it off, Mr. Pohl.  I'm sorry. I can't break a promise to Daddy."

Uh oh.

A Mexican standoff without guacamole.

Pause.

Thinking.

Mr. Pohl walked to his wall and pulled down the mean-looking paddle.  Tommy
cringed when he saw Mr. Pohl slap it against his desk.

"I'm not kidding around Mr. Pertbutt.  Give me the necklace or get the
spanking of your life."

Tommy began to cry.  Large, heaving sobs that nearly broke Mr. Pohl's
heart.  But not his resolve.

Then, the boy's courageous reply.  "I can't break a promise to Daddy."

Damn, Mr. Pohl thought.  Now I have to spank this boy.  I don't want to...
Wait!  What?

Without being told to, Tommy had disrobed.  Quickly and completely.  Socks
and underwear too.  Quite naked.

Deliciously naked.

Mr. Pohl noticed.  And so did his cock.  Which threatened to rip through
his pants.

He managed to sputter out a "What?...Why?"

"When I'm bad, Daddy always spanks me naked," Tommy said.  He was aware of
the effect he was having on Mr. Pohl.  And he liked it.

Tommy had always had that effect on men.  Ever since he could remember..
When Daddy first "made him a sissyboy," his life finally made sense.  Men
liked him because they wanted to fuck him.  It was all clear to him.

Tommy had never cheated on Daddy.  Yet.  But he and Daddy hadn't talked
about being "exclusive."

Tommy was pretty sure he would know how to "make friends" with men.  Even
19th-Century prudes like Mr. Pohl.

Looking at Mr. Pohl's reaction to Tommy's naked body, Tommy was excited
about his immediate future.

And Mr. Pohl could see Tommy's excitement.

All fiercely-stiff, 3.15 inches of it.

Tommy saw Mr. Pohl staring at Tommy's peeny.  It appeared to Tommy that the
man couldn't keep his eyes off it.  Though, truth be told, Mr. Pohl was
looking at Tommy's pink, wrinkly little ball sack every bit as much as he
was looking at the boy's penis.

And Mr. Pohl was eagerly anticipating his first look at Tommy's pretty bum.
Even if he had to spank Tommy to see it.

Already, Mr. Pohl had discovered the striking difference between the theory
of being with a gorgeous, naked sissyboy (which was simple to resist) and
the reality of being with gorgeous, naked sissyboy (which was virtually
irresistible to all but the most resolutely celibate).

Mr. Pohl was standing in the center of his office.  Holding his punishment
paddle.  Cock rampant.  Trembling.  Wondering what to do next.

Should he tell Tommy to get dressed and go back to class?  Spank the evil
out of him, then send him back?  Throw Tommy across his desk and plunge his
cock into the boy's bottom?

Two bad choices.  Another unthinkably immoral.

What to do?

Mr. Pohl sat to consider that question.

Which spurred Tommy to help decide.

Sobbing miserably Tommy lay across Mr. Pohl's lap.  Presenting himself for
the discipline that was appropriate to his defiance of his principal.

Showing the full magnificence of his bare bottom to his potential "abuser."

Wiggling his bottom in fear.  Moving around so much that his plump cheeks
parted.  Showing "pink."

Rubbing his stiff little soldier against his principal's thigh.  Making a
very naughty wet spot.

Oh.

If Mr. Pohl didn't spank the boy soon...

The principal dropped the paddle, but raised his hand to swat the boy's
plump, delectable bottom.

Tommy winced, expecting the first of perhaps several hard swats.

But Mr. Pohl couldn't do it.

Spanking that bottom would be like peeing on the Mona Lisa.

"Stand up, Tommy," Mr. Pohl said.  "Please."

Tommy lifted himself up from his extremely compromising position.  And
stood in front of his principal.  Awaiting developments.

Tommy's penis pointed at his belly button.  Fear excited him.  Being naked
with a man excited him.

Mr. Pohl tried to keep things "neutral."  Though he couldn't help looking
at the wonder that was the skinned, dark-pink, drooling head of Tommy's
11-year-old cock.  Which stood tall mere inches from Mr. Pohl's face.

"You're a brave boy, Tommy," the man said.  "Wrongheaded about some things,
but loyal and principled.  Willing to face punishment for what you believe
in."

Tommy smiled.  And his cock twitched at the compliments.

"Thanks, Mr. Pohl," he said.  He almost made a move to get dressed.  But
thought better of it.  Didn't try to cover himself in any way.

Long pause.

Tommy could almost smell the smoke from Mr. Pohl's overheated brain..

Then...

"Your Daddy is a very lucky man, Tommy."  Still neutral.  Maybe.  Mr. Pohl
could have been talking about loyalty and all that.

But he wasn't.

Neutrality ended when Mr. Pohl took the boy's sweet cock into his mouth and
licked it all over with his hungry tongue.

The principal had taken a position.  Not unlike the position his friend,
Principal Hungwell had recently taken.

It was a much better position than he had imagined possible.

The boy's cock had no particular taste.  Skin-salt.  Or was that traces of
urine?  Or pre-cum?

Tommy's reactions to the man tasting him delighted Mr. Pohl.

Tommy was squeaking happily as Mr. Pohl licked and bathed each of Tommy's
tender balls with his tongue.

Oral sex certainly beat a spanking.  For both of them.

Mr. Pohl pleasured Tommy's "boy's things" a bit differently than his Daddy
did.  More licking than sucking.  More attention to his tender testicles.
Tommy like that.  And he liked the variety of it all.  Better than being
"exclusive."

Mr. Pohl was having the best time of his life, while telling himself it
wasn't actually happening.  Sucking an 11-year-old babydoll's cock wasn't
on that day's "to-do- list for Mr. Pohl.  It was something he had preached
against and suppressed all his life..

Now that he had crossed the line, the biggest line of his life, he knew
there was no going back.  Once he fully convinced himself that it was all
really happening.

He needed a "sign."

He got one.

It was wet.

Tommy screamed loudly.  Which convinced Miss Spinster that the felonious
fifth-grader was getting the whipping he deserved.

It was Mr. Pohl, actually, who had just sucked and licked a cock with
passion and skill, who was getting what he deserved.  The cocksucker's big
reward.

Tommy's ecstatic scream foreshadowed by milliseconds his frantic, heaving,
desperate thrusts and creamy pumps into his principal's throat.

Mr. Pohl hadn't believed that someone as young as Tommy could make "boy's
cream."  The boy excelled at production and distribution of the world's
most delicious "man-nourishment."

Mr. Pohl gagged in surprise as he felt hot spunk hit his tonsils.  His
second emotion was pride.  He had made a gorgeous boy so sexually excited
that the boy shot his spunk!

Hey, hey!

And, he had enhanced the experience by swallowing the creamy treat.  Every
drop.  Which seemed to elicit sweet, pleased little grunts from the boy.

Unselfishly, Mr. Pohl did what he could to prolong the boy's pleasure.  He
continued to "adore" Tommy's cock until it had regained much of its
stiffness.  Mr. Pohl's evolving plan was to suck out a second load of
"boy's cream."

Tommy had a better idea.

He slid his cock from his principal's lips, then sat nakedly on the man's
lap.  Throwing his arms around Mr. Pohl's neck, he kissed his new lover's
hungry mouth.  Tongues became involved.  Sweet!

Tommy ran his hand over Mr. Pohl's clothes-covered cock.  The boy judged
its size as "more than adequate."  And its excitement level as DEFCON FOUR.

The boy broke the kiss and breathed, "That was awesome.  You need to cum,
sir, or you'll injure yourself.  Let me help you."

Tommy sank to his knees, maintaining eye contact with his new friend.
Seeing the lust and need in Mr. Pohl's eyes as he unhooked the principal's
trousers, then unzipped them.  The boy parted the trousers, then unsnapped
the fly of Mr. Pohl's boxers.

Freeing the neglected cock on Principal Dick Pohl.  One of the last
opponents of the Try Boys movement.  Throbbing needily as a boy was poised
to try him.

Tommy was delighted with what he saw.  Mr. Pohl's cock was tall and fat.
With a full foreskin and pouty, drooling, kissable peelips..

Still eye-locked on his man, Tommy lightly kissed Mr. Pohl's peelips.
Giggling with pleasure when the man groaned.

With his right hand, Tommy pulled back Mr. Pohl's foreskin, exposing the
dark-red cockhead swollen with years of unnecessary suppression.  With his
left hand, Tommy cuddled Mr. Pohl's hairy testicles.  Gently, but
impactfully.  Just the way Daddy liked having his balls handled.

Another groan from the man.

Then some serious lickwork from the boy.

Tommy gave the man's "three amigos" a full, thorough tongue bath.
Finishing with a mouth-capping of the cockhead.

It was the best of times and the worst of times for Mr. Pohl.  He was taken
to new plateaus of pleasure and hellish circles of guilt and shame.  As his
orgasm approached, he was able, as we all are, to focus on his pleasure.

There was a lot of it to focus on.

The boy was an excellent cocksucker.  And the man NEEDED to have his cock
sucked.

Though there were at least ten warning pangs of approaching ecstasy,
Mr. Pohl was startled by his orgasm's fierce intensity.

It nearly blew his toes off.

And it went on for almost two minutes.  And seven thick globs of man's
cream.

Tommy swallowed the first three.  Then took the last four on his pretty
face.

Looking at Tommy's cum-drenched face after his own orgasm had subsided,
Mr. Pohl fought guilt and shame.  He even managed a giddy thought of
sending Tommy back to class with a faceful of cum.  Instructing him to tell
whoever asked that it was Mr. Pohl who had bedewed him like that.

Stupid thought.

Though what he did was almost as stupid.  He stood Tommy up, then sucked
him to a second boycum.  Making him spurt and shudder when he entered his
anus with a thick, manly finger as he sucked him.

Two cums for Tommy.  One for Mr. Pohl.  Cum on Tommy's face and a bit on
Mr. Pohl's chin.

Mr. Pohl hustled around the room with a towel, cleaning faces and the
floor..  Then he opened his mouth to say something to Tommy, but didn't
know what to say.

Should he apologize to Tommy?  Thank him?  Ser up a next date?

Tommy smiled sweetly as he got dressed, then went to Mr. Pohl and kissed
him.  That said it all.

Tommy left the room to return to class.  Leaving Mr. Pohl stunned and
drained.  And strangely happy.


Four -- Doing the really unthinkable

Later that day, Mr. Pohl presided at a 15-minute, previously-scheduled
assembly.  Speaking to the entire student body about upcoming school
events.  Looking out at all those beautiful boys.  Including the one whose
cum he had just swallowed.  Trying not to look at Tommy.  But occasionally
catching Tommy's eye.  Which made Mr. Pohl's cock twitch...almost
imperceptibly.

Despite his angst, Mr. Pohl was a professional.  For the most part, he kept
it together during his presentation and no one noticed that he had become a
different man.  A man who had "tried" a boy.

Except one boy.  Who was sure that Mr. Pohl was different.  And wanted to
do something about it.

Nine-year-old Jason Creamworthy had had a crush on Mr. Pohl for as long as
he could remember.  He had known Mr. Pohl all his life.  The man was an
across-the-street neighbor and a friend of his Daddy's.

Jason wasn't one of those sissyboys who cockteased his Daddy until the
paternal penis penetrated the boy.  He thought incest was icky.  But he
thought man-boy sex was the natural order of things.

Jason was all for the Try Boys movement.  It was a blueprint for his life.
A life he wanted to get started right away.  And not wait until he was an
"old codger" of eleven years old like that stupid "consent" law said.

Jason had fooled around with his classmate and best friend Chip, of course.
Kissing -- naked kissing when they could manage it.  Lots of mutual
cock-handling and some cocksucking to dry, but shuddering climaxes.  Jason
and Chip had recently begun to explore each other's bottomholes with
curious fingers, but neither had discovered each other's "boy's place" deep
inside their bottoms.

Boy stuff.

No men.  Yet.

Jason wanted Mr. Pohl.  He wanted Mr. Pohl to be his first man.  And he
wanted him now!

Looking at Mr. Pohl in assembly that day, Jason felt that his dream could
come true.  Soon.  Really soon.

But he would have to do something about it.  Not just wait for Fate.

Fate is way too passive for most of us.

Mr. Pohl arrived home from school at 4:15 that afternoon.  He was happy to
be inside.  Away from all those boys.  All that temptation.

Maybe if he just pretended that nothing had happened, Tommy would forget
about it all and that would be that.  Mr. Pohl could go back to being
himself again.  Stuffy.  Judgmental.

Comfortable and familiar.

No excitement.

But for Mr. Pohl, Fate was on red alert and acting decisively.

[Ding-dong]

The doorbell?

He wasn't expecting anyone.

Mr. Pohl answered the door.

It was the neighbor kid, Jason Creamworthy.

Looking extraordinarily cute!  Sandy blond hair.  Micro-mini shorts.  Tiny
t-shirt.  Flip-flops that showed off his pretty feet and toes.  And a
newsboy's delivery bag.

Nine years old and already looking like a man's wettest dream.

Mr. Pohl's cock twitched.  Which made the man hate himself, and what he was
becoming.  But less so than he had hated himself after sucking Tommy the
second time.

Was that progress?

What did Jason want?  And how could he get rid of him?

"Hi, Mr. Pohl," Jason said sunnily.  "Would you like to subscribe to the
newspaper?"

Mr. Pohl didn't know that the boy delivered newspapers.  He hadn't seen him
doing that.  Not that he was watching the boy.

Mr. Pohl hadn't thought about the newspaper much lately.  Got his news on
line.  But the kid was a family friend.  Maybe he could help him out.

Because he was friends with the family.

Not because the boy was effing gorgeous.

And Mr. Pohl's cock was getting unnaturally stiff.

Well, the man would just sign up for the newspaper and send Jason off.
Then go to sleep for the night.  And start looking for a new job the next
day.  One that was free of the temptation of boys.  He wasn't too old for
manual labor.  Or the fast food industry.

As Mr. Pohl opened his mouth to agree to becoming a subscriber, Jason added
the deal sweetener.  The boy had rehearsed the line.  Realized that saying
it was crossing a big line.  Was nervous about saying it.  Then said it
anyway.

"This month only, Mr. Pohl, all new subscribers get a kiss."

!!

??

A kiss?!?!?!?!

From...

Mr. Pohl looked startled.  Jason smiled, then said, "Oh, I meant a kiss
from me.  On the lips."

Still smiling at Mr. Pohl.  Whose armpits had begun to sweat.

The man was thinking.

About kissing Jason.

And what might follow.

Mr. Pohl had to admit that the boy had excellent marketing sense for a
nine-year-old.

Had he made that offer to other men?  Or was it just for Mr. Pohl?

Good golly, Jason looked kissable!

Mr. Pohl wanted to kiss him.  Badly.  Then he did just that.

He took the boy into his arms, lifted him up, and kissed him.  Right on the
lips.  The boy groaned with lust.

And opened his mouth to admit his dream man's tongue.

Mr. Pohl was tongue kissing a nine-year-old!  Pulling down the boy's shorts
and his, oh, dear, pink panties!

In for a penny, in for a pound.  They can't hang me twice.  Damn the
torpedoes.  Comforted by these and other rationalizing clichés too
numerous to mention, the man stepped things up.

He hadn't done anything anal with Tommy.  There hadn't been time.  In his
naughtiest, post-Tommy thoughts, Mr. Pohl had regretted that oversight.

Which he corrected with Jason.

Entering the angel's bottomhole with one finger -- then two.  Making the
boy cry out, then scream as Mr. Pohl found Jason's prostate and rubbed it.

That was the moment when Mr. Pohl knew there was no going back.  The only
plunge he could take was forward.

Plunging seemed like an excellent idea.

With Jason.

The boy was squirming and squealing as the man kissed him desperately and
massaged the boy's enflamed prostate with two rude, callused fingers..
Jason had never felt anything half as good all his life and he was cumming
frantically in less than five minutes.

No sperm.  Too young.  But the little doll was cumming nonetheless.  And
had lost none of the randiness we "spurters" often experience temporarily
after a ball-draining.

Jason was ready for more sex.  Right away.  Of any flavor.

So was Mr. Pohl.

The man had concentrated on the mouth and the penis with Tommy.  Time to
expand his repertoire.

Mr. Pohl had just learned that Jason loved to have his anus penetrated with
fingers.  Which suggested that other anal pleasures would be greatly
appreciated.

Maybe even...fucking!

The ultimate violation.  Of a boy too young to shoot sperm.

It was all too "wrong" for Mr. Pohl's brain to process.  So he transferred
control functions to his penis.

Mr. Pohl stripped the boy's tshirt off, then carried the delightfully naked
boy upstairs to his bedroom.

He laid the boy on his back on the bed, then got as naked as the boy.

He covered the boy with his manly, hairy body.  He was so much bigger than
the boy.  It was all so wrong!  Which made it so exciting for them both.

The lovers kissed and rubbed stiff cocks.  Delicious!!  Sweet!!

Hot appetizers before the main course of full, anal delights.

Mr. Pohl didn't want to "lose a load" during foreplay.  So he stopped
kissing the boy's mouth and kissed his way down the boy's body.  Making a
nice, long, oral visit to the boy's stiff nipples.  Something Jason and
Chip had not discovered yet.  [Wait until I tell Chip about this!!! Jason
couldn't help thinking.}

Reluctantly abandoning the world's tastiest nipples, Mr. Pohl acquainted
himself with the smallest cock he had ever seen.  Barely two inches of
exquisite, pink perfection.  And a wrinkled ballbag that pouted for kisses.

Though Jason's bumhole was Mr. Pohl's ultimate objective, there was no
rush.  A nice cocksucking would relax the boy.  Perhaps make Jason more
"hospitable" when Mr. Pohl proposed anal sex.

So Mr. Pohl gave the boy an enthusiastic cocksucking.  Which engendered
both a second, more powerful, dry orgasm for the boy and made the boy even
more eager for anything his neighbor and principal wanted to do.  Even
[gasp] fucking!

Jason knew about fucking, of course.  He and Chip had discussed it.  They
were both terrified of it and eager for it.  Chip had recently begun to
cocktease his Daddy, hoping for paternal penetration in his near future.

Despite Chip's incestuous activism, it appeared that Jason would be fucked
first.  Take that, Chip!

Jason was sure that fucking was imminent, because Mr. Pohl had flipped him
onto his stomach and was doing something neither he nor Chip would have
imagined.

The man had parted the boy's bottom cheeks with his thumbs and was [gasp]
licking Jason's anus!!

And not just the outside of it.  He was digging with his tongue.  Digging
inside of Jason's boyhole.  Wetting it!  Opening it!  Getting it ready for
his huge cock!

On the brink of realizing his dream of being man-fucked, Jason panicked.

He didn't want to die.

He was too young to die.

But not too young to fuck.

Mr. Pohl would have stopped if Jason had said, "no."  Probably.

Though at this point, Mr. Pohl more closely resembled a feral animal than a
ultra-square elementary-school principal.

Jason didn't say "no."  Though he considered it.

Especially when he felt Mr. Pohl's cockhead rip into his far-too-tiny hole.

He did scream, however.  Which Mr. Pohl interpreted as ecstasy, not
refusal.

Mr. Pohl paused.  Letting his lover get used to the huge invader.  Three
minutes of soft, subsiding sobs.  Then, "Are you OK, Jason?"

A whimper.  Then, "Yes.  Is there more?"

"There's more.  Lots more.  Do you want me to stop?  I can, but I think
you'll want to feel my cock on your prostate.  Or it wouldn't be a real
fuck.  OK?"

Jason felt a twinge of fear.  But he couldn't hold his head up with Chip if
he punked out, could he?

"OK," Jason whimpered.

Good boy, Mr. Pohl thought.  Then he fucked him.  Pushed his whole, fat
cock in. Endured the screams and panic.  Watched Jason settle down.  Then
pushed and pulled his way toward his own ecstasy.

Much to the boy's evident delight.

By Mr. Pohl's reckoning, the boy had three huge, dry orgasms as the man
fucked the boy and rubbed his cock on Jason's "boy's place."

Mr. Pohl and Jason fucked gloriously for 23 minutes, the man emptied his
balls, and both sank into an exhausted half-sleep.

Jason was limp, almost lifeless as Mr. Pohl reassembled him for departure.
Five screaming, frantic orgasms mixed with large dollops of mortal fear
will do that to you.

Another symptom of their passion was the boy's bottom.  It was leaking man
sperm that would stain the boy's panties and shorts.

Mr. Pohl hoped no one would notice.  And made a mental note to buy some
tampons.

Lots of them.

He planned to entertain many boys in the future.

Trying them as they tried him.


I welcome your comments at beautifulcreamer@yahoo.com.

Other stories on nifty:

"Sweetyboys" (gay young friends) August 31, 2007
"Boarding-School Bedmates" (bisexual adult-youth, though it's quite gay) May 5, 2008
"After-School Stroke Club" (gay high school) May 28, 2008
"Pretty" (gay adult-youth) May 21, 2008
"Hotel Management" (gay adult-youth) June 2, 2008
"Dating Pretty Boys" (gay young friends) July 2, 2008
"Sissyboy Stepson" (gay adult-youth) July 30, 2008
"Sissyboy Showoff" (gay adult-youth) August 14, 2008
"Sissyboy Sleepover" (gay incest) August 26, 2008
"Cockteaser's Comeuppance" (gay adult-youth) September 5, 2008
"Schoolboy Pleasures" (gay adult-youth) October 23, 2008
"Home-Schooled Sissyboys" (gay incest) October 25, 2008
"Sissyboy-Daddy Reunion" (gay incest) November 24, 2008
"Sissyboy Shooting Lessons (gay adult youth) December 4, 2008
"Stepson Seduction" (gay incest) December 13, 2008
"The New Sissyboy" (gay incest) December 22, 2008
"Sissyboy Hangout" (gay incest) February 13, 2009
"The Little Prickpleaser" (gay incest) February 20, 2009
"Twelve" (gay incest) March 10, 2009
"Sissyboy Facts of Life" (gay incest) March 11. 2009
"Lord Upcock's Darlings" (gay adult-youth) March 12, 2009
"Sissyboy Spunk Party" (gay adult-youth) March 20, 2009
"Corporate Cockpleasers" (gay adult-youth) April 1, 2009
"Sissyboy Nephews" (gay incest) May 5, 2009
"Sissyboy Restitution" (gay adult-youth) May 9, 2009
"Sissyboy Pediatrics" (gay adult-youth) May 14, 2009
"Next-Door Sissyboy" (gay incest) May 19, 2009
"Sissyboy Sanctuary" (gay adult-youth) May 20, 2009