Date: Mon, 28 Jul 2008 15:16:27 -0600 (GMT-06:00)
From: Karl Keplin <karlkeplin@earthlink.net>
Subject: Phillip the Sissy 1

It was 1951 and I was in the eighth grade. Being gay was totally taboo in
the early fifties in suburban Connecticut, but I had found a couple of
fascinating books that spoke of sex among men and boys (and boys & boys) in
ancient Greece. I knew I was attracted to other boys. I had been shooting
sperm for more than a year, was very horny and wanted to find an outlet
that involved touching another warm body.

There was an effeminate boy in the seventh grade named Phillip Moncrief II
who was picked on un- mercifully by the bullies for being a sissy. He had
longish dirty blond hair, a very slim figure and pale brown eyes. He
dressed in fashionable expensive clothes but seemed to be friendless. His
wearing lip gloss and clear nail polish was part of what brought on the
beatings. One Thursday after school let out I noticed that he was being
harrassed by a bunch of bullies who bloodied his nose and tore his
clothes. After they were through tormenting him and left him sniffling on
the ground, I went up to him, held out a clean handkerchief and said,
"Phillip, you need any help?"

"Thank you. You know my name? What's yours?" I told him that my name was
Adam and that we lived only three blocks from each other. (I lived in a
modest house with my parents and sister on Arcadia. He lived in a huge
mansion with about five acres of land around it at the corner of
Bladensburg and Porter.)

Knowing he was brought to school each morning by the family chauffeur in a
black Cadillac limousine, I offered to take him to his house on the
handlebars of my bike. "Oh, would you? Thanks a lot. I don't want to have
to call Leffingwell from the pay phone and have him see me like this."

After we wobbled to his place on my fat-tired bike he invited me in. "My
parents are in Europe for another week. Cook and Driver are the only people
at home. Come on up and see my room." He took me in through the front
door. The house was richly furnished and full of polished dark wood and
marble floors -- on the first floor at least. He snuck me up the grand
staircase so that the cook wouldn't see his bloody nose and ripped
clothes. His bedroom was huge. It had a double bed and a connected bath
room. I was very impressed that he had his own floor model TV console. He
had a bureau, desk, book case, walk-in-closet and a dressing table with
light bulbs surrounding the mirror. The room had red walls and his
bedspread was red and black.

He led me into the bathroom and asked me to help wash the blood off his
face. After wetting a wash cloth and dabbing away as much blood as I could
he hugged me and kissed me right on the lips. I was startled and said,
"What did you do that for?"

"Because, Adam, I'm a sissy."

"What does that mean?"

"It means that I like boys. Do you?"

"Er, um, I think so -- but I've never done anything with a boy, or a girl
for that matter."

"Would you like me to suck your dick?"

"Oh, gee, I dunno, Phillip," I said as my dick started to lengthen.

"Your cock knows. See how it's getting big in your pants?"

"Well, what do I have to do?"

"Unzip your fly and sit on the edge of my bed. I'll do all the rest."

After I unzipped and sat down on his bed he knelt between my legs, pried
open the front of my Fruit-of-the-Loom's and pulled my dick out. He rolled
my foreskin back and sucked my dick into his mouth. I went into sensual
overload. I had never felt anything on my dick to compare with his hot,
moist mouth. It made me so horny that my boner got harder than it had ever
been before. When Phillip started bobbing his head up and down my shaft and
swirling his tongue around the head I couldn't help whimpering and making
pelvic thrusts. Soon all my private parts started tingling and I felt my
sap rising.

"Watch out, Phillip, I'm going to come!"

He just grunted "mmmfff" and kept fellating me. I started ejaculating into
his mouth and he just gurgled and swallowed it all. Afterwards he licked my
deflating dick and put it back inside my briefs.

"Phil, do you need to get off?"

"Nice of you to ask me, Adam. No -- when you came in my mouth I shot in my
pants."

"Well, I've got to get home. I'll let myself out the front door."

"OK, I'll see you in school tomorrow."

I crept down the front stairs and got out through the front door without
being spotted by the help.