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y an aperture through which jutted a generously proportioned rubber cock. Annalisa was of course violently taken aback, and for just a moment she stood stock-still. Then she exploded. "What the fuck...!" Her eyes became slits between clenched furrowed brows and reddened cheeks, and they glowered with righteous anger. "You! The girl from the slum - what have you been up to with Freddie? What have you been doing to my son, you filthy, unholy cow?" Jennifer started, but although surprised and alarmed she didn't panic. She never panicked in the way other people did, but she did inwardly curse her misjudgement. It had been a mistake to visit Fox Mews and a mistake to stay so late. And it was definitely a mistake to allow herself to fall asleep when she'd completed her daring escapade. She'd phoned Freddie the moment Madame and her sissy-troupe had departed that evening. After ensuring his mother was also away she told him that she'd be visiting Fox Mews in an hour and he should tell Felicity to get ready. When she had arrived there had been no sign of misunderstanding about what was to take place. Freddie had greeted her shyly, eyes cast down, but his hair had been neatly arranged, he wore earrings, and his face sparkled with lipstick and eye shadow. Hey presto. Abracadabra! With little more than an hours warning he had become magically transformed into Felicity, sweetly perfumed and dressed ready for the bedroom. Smacks first, she'd told him. A mild spanking always makes a sissy frisky. It encourages him to wiggle his bum and make it amenable to whatever may follow. Now she'd been caught dead to rights, bare bottomed feminised boy on the bed, and an outrageously horny looking dildo bouncing between her thighs. She had only met Annalisa once before, but she felt she knew her well enough to see she wasn't quite herself. Her face was twisted and livid, but her energy seemed scattered almost as if she were undecided what to do. Her face looked puffy and certainly she was astounded, but she didn't display the hysterical anger she expected from a mother whose offspring had been wickedly abused. Instead of attacking her with an axe or rushing off to summon the police, she was dithering. The moment of danger passed. Annalisa seemed loathed to make a fuss, and in fact her attention seemed to have strayed right away from the sight of Freddie's prone body on the bed. Catching a whiff of her indecision Jennifer gave her a big fake smile and leaned against a chair. Her manner was nonchalant, but her eyes seemed to pierce right into the other woman's brain as if she could read the thoughts registering there. Annalisa was looking down at the plastic penis jutting from her loins, she couldn't take her eyes off it. Strapped to a young girls thighs it was probably the most sensual prosthetic the ageing prima donna had seen in ages. It was pink and sturdily constructed, about seven inches long and slightly curved, and it sported a superbly moulded tip. It was altogether perfect for servicing a tight pussy. "An enchanting item, eh!" Jennifer remarked, "it looks okay, doesn't it? Practically the real thing. You've lived life, Annalisa. You've seen girls wearing cocks before. This is my prick. Come closer and have a better look." The tone of her voice sent a chill through the woman's body and seemed to flick on a switch inside. Fascinated, agog with trepidation, Annalisa's lips curled back to show her teeth. For a moment she looked like a horse about to neigh, but then she meekly slumped to her knees, took the cock in her hands and gazed at it. Jennifer pressed closer and gently stroked her hair, suggesting she put out her tongue and give the replica cock a few gentle licks, which Annalisa obligingly consented to do. It was exciting to see the woman being turned-on by the cock and even more exciting to watch her kiss it and press her fingers around the balls. Without any more urging the woman pushed her mouth onto the head, licked the tip of the shaft to wet it and then took it into her mouth. Jennifer immediately began to rock her hips back and forth as Annalisa sucked, making the tentative woman take just a little bit more than she'd originally planned. Annalisa issued out a faint wet gurgling sound as the bulbous tip sank into the back of her throat. She gagged, choked and coughed, but for a while she held it there, breathing through her nose before drawing back. Jennifer felt as if she were a stranger in a bus queue, feeling like she was standing outside her body and watching the two of them perform. Annalisa Gordeno was the leading-light here, star of stage and screen, singer, actress - and now champion sword-swallower, she thought in whimsical amusement. Just goes to show how nondescript celebrities can be when they're outside their own little milieu. Good word - milieu - she thought, she should use it more often. Annalisa gasped as if she were drowning when she let the instrument slip from her mouth, but she couldn't hold in a sigh of admiration. It was like she was fifteen again, alone in a room with her favourite schoolteacher with her insides fluttering. "It's - oh! It's truly magnificent! Will you - erm - are you - are you going to use it on me?" Jennifer held down her sense of triumph and smiled lightly. "Why, Annalisa, I had no idea - but I'm not disappointed. Take off your knickers. Since you're such an enthusiast you should certainly try it for size." The other woman's face reddened and she shook, but nevertheless she reached up under her skirt and tugged at her pants, skimming them down as quickly as she could. "God, Jennifer. You're a bitch." She clambered up and wiggled herself onto the edge of the bed, breathing heavily as she leaned back and splayed her thighs, allowing the girl unrestricted access to her sexual attributes. The sights the woman had witnessed since entering the room had served her like an hours normal foreplay and her wetness was apparent. "I don't usually do this sort of thing," she insisted. "Not with a strap- on." Jennifer smiled beatifically. "Of course you don't, but my mother always told me conventuality is the refuge of a stagnant mind, and that's true, isn't it?" The teenager positioned her, spreading her legs in a workmanlike way and used her fingers to open her up, which was easy because she was so wet and ready. Beneath her the bed creaked despite its sumptuous depth and extravagant fittings. A finger slipped into Annalisa's slavering cranny and the woman opened her legs wider to allow a second digit to invade her. Her pussy gripped at both fingers and she moaned incoherently with pleasure when they were wiggled inside. "Ready for the real thing now?" asked Jennifer. Annalisa blinked. "The real thing! Oh - um - oh yes." she croaked, "But not here. Freddie may wake up." Her feeble objection made no headway with the girl. "But you have such a lovely bed with a beautiful mattress. It's perfect. You'll simply have to control yourself, dear. No shrieking or loud moaning, eh!" It had been days since Annalisa last had sex and even then it had been rather pathetic, but despite her previous misgivings the unexpected orgasmic facility left her well lubricated. Nevertheless Jennifer took no chances. She took a bottle of sweet almond massage oil from the bedside table and smeared a generous amount on her cock before wedging the woman open with her knees and sliding between her legs. The latex prong nudged Annalisa's belly and bumped against her thigh before at last being offered up to the waiting pussy. Easing forward the girl separated Annalisa's wet vaginal lips with the tip of the tool then watched the woman's hole open up and stretch around it as the sturdy length glided in. It entered smoothly, sinking deep until it could go no further. Annalisa uttered an esoteric gasp as Jennifer humped against her. "It's such a monster, oh yeah! Give it to me, Jennifer. Give me the whole length." Jennifer's hips arched back, already accustomed to the squelchiness and the slipperiness, then slammed forward as she started to fuck her properly. Annalisa was an active participant when it came to sex. She moved and she made noises. "Oh, oh, oh! Come on - fuck me," she gasped out loud in a voice breathy with sexual emotion. Movements became more and more frenetic as she urged Jennifer to her task. She enjoyed being fucked that way. The girl was her master for a while and she was happy to concede to being the master's woman. Jennifer responded with firmer thrusts of her pelvis, her pussy felt alive with the firm grinding she was delivering. A girl well-practised in using a strap-on, she had laid Annalisa on her back and got stuck into her in the traditional missionary fashion most men prefer, humping up her thighs and then driving down forcefully. Occasionally her dildo would enter so deep that a strange sensation of pain and pleasure would send a confused message through Annalisa's body, but overall the woman's grunts became more audible as her movements became more frantic. Jennifer's gasps now reached higher levels of volume too as she played out her role as lover. She rocked herself backwards and forwards, exhaling deeply as she pushed her mound against her instrument. Its base acted as a fine stimulator for her clitoris and helped the juices to flow. "Remember - no squealing, Annalisa," she reminded has she buried the entire instrument to its hilt in Annalisa's wet, eager hole. Annalisa's style of taking it was undulating and fluid so she was able to savour the sensation of the penetration of her womanhood. Her mind became transfixed on Jennifer's shaft as it plied its way in and out, slow and deliberate at first and then moving faster, its solid shape and her own wetness making a sexy slurping noise. Utterly compliant she panted softly, then flopped back and gazed up from beneath heavy-lidded eyes as she gently churned her hips to create a circular massage along its length. Aah!" Just what a woman needed. As good as a real one. Better than a real one. Stouter, stiffer and more reliable. No fannying about trying to keep it upstanding. She was bucking and screwing with the girl as ardently and as fierce as she'd ever done with any sleek-mannered gigolo of the past. "Did you use this thing on him - y'know, did you stick it in Freddie - in his backside?" "I think you know I did." "Does - does Freddie make a noise when you fuck him?" she asked, "Does he squeal a lot? Some of my boyfriends say he does." "You allow men to fuck him?" "They sometimes come visiting when I'm not here. Freddie never complains." "You're a dirty cow, Annalisa. You enjoy thinking about him being fucked. You'd probably like to watch it happen." The woman clearly had her own sexual deviations but Jennifer mainly loved the feeling of being totally in control, and the more she pushed the limits the more aroused she became. Her own bluntness and crudeness turned her on. But it was no more than Annalisa deserved. She was a domineering and selfish woman who caged her son whenever she could and did everything to meld him into something to suit her own purpose. The other woman's breasts were swollen domes, the teats standing rigid. Her gaze widened as she rotated her thighs and began to squeal. "Oooh, that cock! That big plastic thing is shagging me to heaven. Oooh, Jennifer, do it harder. Squeeze my tits, twist my nipples. Fuck me rough, I love it like that." "Well, hump against me you silly tart," chastened Jennifer, "Surely you don't expect me to do all the work myself." Far from dousing the older woman's eagerness the terse reply envigorated it. The promise of an orgasm increased in strength and intensity until it blossomed into reality. The walls of her pussy throbbed in impossible spasms and she tripped into a climax that hadn't been matched for years. "Oh yes, fuck my pussy. Fuck me! Fuck me hard... harder! Oh, please..." Jennifer did her uttermost to oblige. That night she was feeling decadent, rude and unbelievably liberated. She wondered how many people would go to their graves with a mindful of unfulfilled fantasies. How many would wish they had just thrown their briefcase into a bin and jumped on a plane bound for Kathmandu at 5 o'clock in the afternoon, or rode a camel over the Sahara at the weekend, or shagged the daylights out of a mother and her son on the same night. Just when she had the opportunity to spend a little time in yorkshire life in London was turning out to be not too bad, she realised. Not only was it not too bad, but she was actually beginning to enjoy herself. *** Jennifer and Samson departed in one of the vans for Yorkshire the following morning and Madame Dupont was determined to spend her housebound time catching up with things, making telephone calls, checking the accounts, paying bills, writing belated replies to correspondence and generating letters of her own. She didn't enjoy such stagnant business. While supremely adept at thinking on her feet and organising things in her head she was not a natural born office worker. In a rational moment she'd tried to divide her neglected mail into three separate piles marked, 'Urgent', 'Boring' and 'Fuck off', but her organisation had floundered quickly and soon all the furniture in the sitting room was littered with open files, piles of paper and scatterings of notes reminding her to write more notes. The mess didn't matter. When she'd finished Marianne would come in and within an hour the room would display an almost obsessive neatness and order. The pencils would be sharpened and perfectly lined up on her desk, and the letters and folders would lay in symmetrical rows. All the same, life for her seemed rather hectic during such periods of necessary administration, so she was not in the best of moods when the door bell rang. She crept to the bay of the window and peered around the curtain to see who was calling, but her attempt to remain hidden and avoid answering the door was blown when the woman outside turned and caught sight of her. She smiled and gave a wave and Madame felt compelled to smile in return. Mrs Gitty was standing on the step, hair uncombed and disordered, her squat form and massive breasts and buttocks shrouded by a dress that looked like a bell-tent. "Good afternoon, Madame Dupont. I's come to collect a big stone vase or something. Horace sez you know all about it." "Yes," Elise Dupont replied with an expression of slight toothache. "Come in. It's been cleaned out and it's in the back yard." The visitors thumb indicated over her shoulder at the two young teenage boys standing behind her. "O'course I's not built for liftin' stone vases or carryin' 'em about, so I's brought Pinky and Ben with me. That's only right, ain't it? What I mean is, I's a lady, ain't I? Healthy young lads don't mind a bit of labour, an' them two owe Horace a favour." She paused a moment to glance around. "I wuz expectin' to meet that cheerful old bugger Samson at the door. It's unusual for you to answer it yourself." "Samson is away on a trip with Jennifer," Madame explained, "I'm the only person here at present who is allowed to answer the door. She led the way into the sitting room. "I don't see why Horace had to send around a squad of agents. He could have managed that stone urn himself or asked Toby Parkin to pick it up." "Aha! They're a pair o' soft puddin's them two. They wuz arguing and sulkin' all morning about who should come here, so I said I'd do it if I could have the rest of the day off." She flopped onto the sofa, almost crushing with the wide spread of her buttocks a pile of correspondence Madame had left there. Upstairs in the bedrooms Jennifer's absence from the house had given everyone the kind of impetus for adventure they had not known for weeks. Free of the rigid discipline that cowed them into docile obedience each day they felt at liberty to indulge themselves by dressing up in some of the outlandish clothes that could be found in the costume cupboard. Lulu had made his face up using eyeliner, mascara, purple eye shadow and a generous smear of candy-apple lipstick, and felt free then to spend some time concentrating on his nail varnish. One stroke down the middle of each nail and then one each side. The pale lavender colour was going to look splendid with the outfit he'd chosen. When his nails had dried he unfurled cream silk stocking up his legs, admiring his shapely calf muscles in a mirror as he did so. He'd already spent an hour on his hair, brushing the riotous curls until they gleamed, then sweeping them up into a mass at the crown and pinning them there with pearl combs that matched the pearls fastened to his ears. He ended up wearing a teasing little dress of spider-gauze in bold lavender, as light as thistledown, and only made decent because of the silk slip worn beneath it. The sensation of cool material sliding over his nipples and swirling against the front of his panties were delights he had only come to appreciate fully in the past few weeks. Little secret thrills tingled up and down his spine from the touch of the girls clothes and the slick feeling of the hose as he caressed it upwards. His last wisps of boyishness had gone and he was now a fairy-tale princess wishing there was a virile young Prince Charming there to admire the tightness of his bottom, which he realised looked good as he pirouetted in front of a mirror. The clinging outfit looked good on him, he had a pretty bum and he had good legs. He'd always had good legs. His previous experience had been limited. Sometimes his mother had dressed him in a party frock for the church fete and volunteered him to take a turn at selling kisses from a booth. What was supposed to be a chaste peck on a flushed upturned cheek often became mouth on mouth ravishment with long, wet lizard-like tongues wriggling down his throat. Villainous people were always chased away of course, but they always left him shivering and wanting for it to happen again. He wanted their hands to feel his body, wanted them to undress him. He wanted them to scoop him up and carry him off to do rude things. That hadn't happened then, but in the few weeks he'd spent in Nob Street he'd learnt a lot about being a girl. He was no longer the shy little Miss. He'd leant what to wear and how to wear it, how to stand and how to move, and he'd learnt about expressions and body language and how to make himself noticed and look kissable. Also, he'd learnt about sex, and his neat little bottom was now quite experienced. Trixie came rushing in through the door full of coltish eagerness. "Come here, oh come on you silly fuck-puppet or you'll miss them." he implored, excitement etched persuasively over his face. His friend was dressed even more adventurously than himself in a slinky red chiffon dress that was demur at the front but cut deep behind, so that it showed most of his shoulder blades and back. Short, to show off the curve of his legs, it also had slits up the sides display his white stockings and suspenders. Without pausing to explain anything Trixie set off along the landing wondering if they were already too late for whatever it was, and Lulu followed him like a pet dog. They both skidded to a halt against the balustrade at the top of the stairs and stared down at Pinky and Ben kicking their heels in the vestibule below. "See - Boys!" announced Trixie eagerly. Lulu's tummy churned. "Oh dear, we don't know them, they may be rough boys." "I don't care if they are a bit rough as long as they're up for some fun." his friend told him, and with complete disregard to propriety he leaned over the balustrade. "Coo-ee! Yoo-hoo, boys. Do you want to have your wicked way with us?" The two young teenagers glanced up. "You what?" "Do you wanna come up here an' play willy games? Trixie added. Ben's face screwed up as he snapped out of a slack-jawed trance. "Waddayer mean?" Offering a wide grin Trixie seductively scooped up the hem of his little skirt, baring inches of supple white thigh, then quite brashly extracted his penis from his pants and waggled it through the rails of the balustrade. "Do some diddling and some other stuff." Pinky and Ben looked at each other briefly, and then... "We're comin'" Trixie chortled wickedly. "I expect you will be soon." "Stand by for lift-off," he murmured to Lulu as the pair of visitors clambered up the stairs. Lulu didn't hear, he was miles away. His whey face fixed wide-eyed has he gawped full force at Ben, the boy coming up the stairs towards him. Wow! Look at him! That youth! What lovely eyes, he thought. With a face that was fresh and handsome. No acne, with clean hair the colour of a wicker basket, older than himself. A gorgeous dreamboat. "Hullo?" Ben said to him as he reached the landing. "Hey," Lulu clasped his hands in front of him and kept looking, his expression trying to give nothing away. But he softened quickly and the corners of his mouth began to lift and he became suddenly aware of how his young cock was pinking inside his tiny thong pants. "Hi," Pinky said as he came up the stairs to claim Trixie. Trixie was daintily raising the front of his tiny skirt to expose his minuscule panties for the benefit of anyone who wished to look. The contents of his pants wasn't big, but it wasn't small either, and it was stirring. "I'm not wearing anything that won't come off." he whispered flirtatiously. Pinky scratched his head in confusion. "Are you two bits of fluff girls or boys?". "We're boys really," Trixie told him, "but we can do anything a girl can do." "What's your name?" Ben was asking Trixie's companion. "Lulu," replied Lulu. His face was open, his lips parted and his eyes could not keep still. "You look fantastic. I like the blue outfit." "I'm glad you like it. But it's not blue, it's lavender really." Ben stood in front of him and drew him close. "You're mine," he said. Lulu uttered a tiny gasp, involuntary, unaware of how seductive it sounded as he rolled his eyes and drooped his hand suggestively at the wrist. Oh, yes. I'm yours, he thought. They stared into each others eyes, and Lulu knew that was it; he'd never been intimate with anyone from outside the house before and he realised he could go along with what was going to happen or run off and hide. He decided he wasn't going to run or hide. With a shy smile he took hold of Ben's hand then turned and led him toward one of a row of dingy brown painted doors further along the windowless landing, while behind him Trixie gave the same invite to his own beau. Utterly neglectful of the reason they'd been brought there and of the woman who had accompanied them, the two older boy went willingly. The moment they were in the room Pinky pulled Trixie down onto the narrow bed and jammed his mouth on his, sliding his hand up his body and cupping his palm around the yielding warmth of his left breast. Trixie gave a little moan, squirmed in pretend protest, then pushed himself against the pressure. Pinky's hand eased away and sneaked down to the sissy's thighs, up under the little skirt until he was touching the tenuous protection offered by a pair of tiny pants. Trixie stiffened and opened his legs when he felt fingers sliding over the smooth nylon. Trixie had become irretrievably involved with Pinkie, allowing him every kind of liberty and moaning in girlish rapture as the visitors hands moved up under his clothes, tugging his small breasts out from his stretchy little cotton bra and pushing them up so an avid tongue could lick the nipples. Just inches away Lulu was arranged beside his friend across the bed and he closed his eyes when Ben climbed on top of him. He could just feel the whisper of the handsome boy's breath on his cheek, and it made him feel beautiful. Warm noses touched and soft lips lightly sucked at his mouth, and saturated with excitement he accepted a kiss, the contact turning from tenderness to one of passion as their mouths opened and they gorged on each others taste. Pressed down on the mattress, Lulu felt perfectly safe and deliciously vulnerable at the same time and he gladly welcomed Ben's leg between his own and was gently riding his thigh as they kissed. He could feel the boys erection, as hard as a brick, poking through his jeans at his belly, almost as if it was trying to penetrate his belly button or gouge out his appendix. Big boys hands were going everywhere inside flimsy colourful frocks, feeling bare flesh and stroking soft skin. Pretty soon Ben's hands gravitated downwards, then up the back of Lulu's skirt to cuddle his bare bum cheeks. After a few moments they moved round to play with the elastic of the tiny sissy posing-pouch, inching it down, fingers scrabbling to reach inside. Lulu sighed. His brand new boyfriend was hot for him, and he was hot for whatever was going to happen. Being a sissy had its downsides, like being scolded and smacked quite a lot, but there were benefits too, he decided. Ben was making gulpy and groany noises stifled only by his lipwork, and he was generating similar sounds an octave higher himself. His little quaking penis felt ready to burst and he didn't even dare touch it, but already he was anticipating Ben's hand taking hold and jinking back and forth. "I think you want a bit of attention," Ben said. "Is that right?" "Yes. Yes, please," panted Lulu. Ben grinned and gave the she-boys face a big wet lick. "I'm going to stuff your arse with my cock, but I'll make sure you get a nice reward if you give me a good screw." Down stairs Madame was desperately trying to deter Mrs Gitty from staying too long. "I need some taghairm," she told her wearily. "Some what?" gawped the other woman. "Taghairm, it's a word Sir Walter Scott used in Lady Of The Lake. It means inspiration sought by lying in a bullock's hide behind a waterfall." Mrs Gitty shook her head and smacked her wet violet lips. "Oh aye. I could do wi' a bullock hide meself sometimes. I'd like a rest. You theeaytre people have such a nice way of saying things. Everything else is just about sex these days. Sexy undies, sex toys, sex on TV - yer can't move for sex." Mrs Gitty was partial to a bit of gossip, especially about sex. She enjoyed a good old chinwag of a nefarious kind and she was ready to go into full spate. With only Horace and Toby Parkin to bounce words off at the shop she missed out on a nice natter at work. Men were never forthcoming with talk and they always seemed to want to keep secrets, so it was lovely to have a chat with Madame Dupont. Madame Dupont herself however was feeling besieged and annoyed at her visitors interruption. Unfortunately neither her look of irritation or her terse responses deterred Mrs Gitty from incessant blather, so she was thankful when the telephone rang. By the time Madame had uttered three oh, no's and several groans Mrs Gitty realised the conversation on the phone was going to be as lengthy as she'd intended her own to be, so she reluctantly lifted up her bulk and headed out into the hall. She gazed about looking for Pinky and Ben, and not seeing them waiting there she barrelled through the house like a pig sniffing out truffles. No Pinky or Ben in the kitchen at the back either so she tried the yard outside that was no bigger than a Ping-Pong table, and where Marianne was watering the seedlings that had been recently transplanted from the big stone urn nearby into a large plastic plant-pot. Jennifer had bought him a little red plastic watering-can when she'd purchased the plant-pot, a child's toy really, but it was quite large enough to irrigate his diminutive garden. Madame's senior sissy was wearing clunky scholl sandals but otherwise his legs were bare to the top of his thighs above which he wore a very brief, black pleated skirt as may have been worn by a fantasy figure of an English schoolgirl, together with a sleeveless white top with a low neckline. On the front of the top was sewn a large red love-heart, and apart from lipstick, his face looked scrubbed and pink with health. Mrs Gitty's eyes narrowed. She liked what she saw and studied him up and down. A pretty specimen, she thought. Trim body and nicely turned legs, and bending forward with the watering-can the back of his little skirt hoisted so high it revealed the under curve of his bare buttocks. "Oi, sweetlips, 'as yu seen Pinky 'n' Ben?" she asked as she stepped out though the open door. Marianne glanced over his shoulder at the women's enormous whale-shaped hulk, at her greedy eyes and lascivious wide mouth. "Er, No, 'spect they've gone up the stairs." "Where upstairs?" "In one of the rooms." "How many rooms are there?" "Um, dunno, I've never counted 'em." He rose up and began counting off on his fingers. "There's some bedrooms that are being used and some bedrooms that aren't being used. There's the big studio room and the small lounge room, and there's the washroom and the bathrooms, we've got two of those. And there's..." Mrs Gitty snorted irritably. "Shut up wi' yer rattle y'silly little gender-bender. You can come and show me - better than me hollerin' and screechin' while Madame's trying to concentrate on business." She noticed then the flaccid dangle of his cock showing below the hem of his skirt. She'd heard about the size of Marianne's remarkable cock from Horace and Toby Parkin. It was by no means a microbe, indeed it was as big as a large stranded cod. The woman's bosom, as big as a pair of mammoth marrows, juddered unrestrained beneath her dress, and without giving any warning she stooped slightly and gripped the penis in her hand. She was oddly bull- like for a woman, strong, big-boned and wide hipped. It was impossible to argue with her and Marianne uttered a desolate little "Eik!" when with a swift movement she moved off towing him solicitously half a pace behind. They stomped up the stairs together to the mezzanine level, the woman thumping the banister rail and heaving on the newels with the flat of her hand to hoist herself upwards to the second floor landing, Mrs Gitty needed to pause at intervals to catch her breath and, ( rub, rub) casually, almost thoughtlessly she jinked the hefty young penis she held in her hand. They went up a second flight to the dance studio. No one there at all. Rub, rub, rub Puffing, red faced the woman looked at him. "Where now?" "There's the empty rooms on the landing below." Rub, rub She hauled Marianne behind herself as she descended, still slicking her hand up and down his cock which was starting to feel more and more like the tiller on a boat. They found themselves on a short landing boasting a number of doors. Mrs Gitty made for the first one and when she turned the doorknob and eased the door open the scene beyond was not a complete surprise. Four half- undressed bodies were in mid-writhe on top of the bed. Pinky and Ben, like starving leeches high on teenage passion, were sucking the faces off a couple of Madame's young pretties while a number of raunchy stiff pricks were skimming together in a sword fight. "Yikes!" blinked Trixie at the appearance of the mountainous Valkyrie that had Marianne's aroused penis braced in her hand like a sword. With her appearance frantic bare arms scrabbled for clothing, but lots of naked flesh remained glaringly apparent. Mrs Gitty drank the scene in and found it as heady as black stout. "Sluts!" she hissed, letting everyone feel the depth of her authority. Her eyes became porcine slits between clenched brows and plump cheeks and they glittered with something just short of anger. "Whores! Dirty little slutters!" Brandishing her dockers arms she went striding towards where the four bodies lay sprawled on the mattress. She was intending to give Pinky and Ben a piece of her mind for wandering off, but after a step or two she relented and every sign of a rumpled temper deserting her. Bless 'em! They can't help it, it's their hormones gettin' to 'em, she decided. Lads like them just couldn't hold back when they had a chance with a bit of pretty arse. The steely glint remained in her eyes as he scanned Trixie and Lulu. "You two want some rumpy, do yer?" Trixie giggled and dimples appeared in the middle of his cheeks. Lulu looked at her with fallen-angel eyes, but he gave up trying to recover his panties. His heart was stuck somewhere in his throat. Light-headed and tongue-tied he tittered in the nervous way he always did when he wasn't sure of what he was expected to say. "Oh, I suppose...." "Oh, jus' get on wi' it." Mrs Gitty scoffed impatiently. Pinky's exposed, virile erection made his intention obvious. For several minutes he'd been taunting himself with the prospect of pumping his cock around in Trixie's luscious little mouth, and that's what he now did. Grabbing hold of the limp-wristed sissy treasure he plugged the dear things gasping mouth with several inches of thick, hot meat. In close proximity to them Lulu lay on his back across the mattress beneath an eager-to-rut big boy, and Ben was in the process of mounting him. Heels went up either side, and Ben grabbed his ankles and put Lulabelle's feet up on his own shoulders. No need to tell the creampuff what to do, he helpfully dug in with his heels. Hot for each other, thought Mrs Gitty. Oh, yes, she thought as she reached out and grasped Ben's erection and aimed the oozing bell-end towards Lulu's vacant bum-hole. "Goo on. Get in there yer randy sod. Give it a good poke. The little luv's gaggin' for it." With a lusty shove she stuffed the rampant tip against the waiting orifice and screwed it in, and once the older boys throbbing member had penetrated beyond the anal ring there was no resistance. Lulu's legs had been levered up and back, allowing for no defence, no obstruction to the depraved partner who was heaving with his thighs, forcefully shunting his rammer deep and going at him like a sewing-machine. Mrs Gitty turned to where Pinky was working. He had been keen to do a big cum in young Trixie's darling mouth, but the temptation of an available sissy backside eventually proved too much and he surrendered to another kind of debauchery. The woman watched as a nicely turned length of teenage dick melted into young Trixie's hot, cloying hole, sinking into the soft flesh up to its root and inviting the young shemale to scrunch his backside up and down as it slammed into his eager bum-pussy. She felt a pang that could have been envy - or just indigestion. Both tender-bodied sissies lay side by side, their pink curves moving slowly to generate muffled noises, breathless panting and soft groans, their slender rumps being ruthlessly seen-to by a pair of randy big-boy dicks. Both Pinky and Ben were rather well endowed for their age and it fascinated her to see how nicely the dainty sissy bottoms accommodated them. They were both reacting like perfect girls, eyes screwed tight shut, mouths drawn back in concentration, needy and sexy and loving everything they were getting. After a short while both upturned bottoms began to rotate, muscles squeezing and clutching greedily around the throbbing tools that were embedded in them, moved wildly back and forth to press onto the sturdy boy-meat and meet each sawing cock-thrust. Mrs Gitty's eyes bulged and her thick lips were wet where her tongue had flicked out between them. She felt gratuitously entertained each time a penis slid halfway out, then plunged in again. Then she saw the muscles tighten in Ben and Pinky's legs and knew they were both about to come, and suddenly all four of them were groaning and rolling around in fitful ecstasy as the two teenagers pumped out their virile hot juice. The woman's gelatinous buttocks wobbled, and she clamped a firm grip on Marianne's penis. Rub, rub. "Let's you an' me go use a bed in another room. You may reckon yourself a gal, but I ain't come here to stand around like an unemployed pox-doctor's nurse. I'm not passin' you by today wi'out tryin' out that between-the-legs spittin' cobra somebody give you." Marianne gaped in horror. "Mrs Gitty, I don't do things with ladies." The woman snorted in contempt. "Don't act the prissy queen wi' me, my fragrant little weed. You've got a dick that should be hung on a mule and I's gonna have some of it." *** Outside, at the other end of the landing, Pompom was innocently looking for someone to admire him. He too had spent quite some time prettying up that day and he was determined it should not go unnoticed. He was not totally unaware of the devastating effect his looks had on people, and he loved making heads turn. His hair shone and hung in small braided loops about his ears; a Grecian style that suited his low cut frock and made a show of his long neck and narrow shoulders. It made him feel quite the little Miss, and the rich chestnut brown of his hairdo was a perfect compliment to the dark stockings and the sleeveless, tight-waisted dress of mulberry-coloured poplin that he wore. As a finale touch he'd pulled on a pair of lacy white gloves and now, buoyant with satisfaction he gave a frivolous swish of his hips that made his little skirt ripple. Unexpectedly, it was on the landing that Madame's daughter, Sophie, found him. "Well, are you not the prettiest thing I've seen today?" she grinned. Pompom blanched. "What are you doing here?" he asked apprehensively. He squirmed openly, hoping she would move on. His cheeks felt hot as he recalled how she and her ghastly friend had mastered Amber and himself in the past, and although he had set out to impress he had no wish to attract HER attention. "Mummy says I can come here whenever I wish as long as I don't disrupt things," purred the girl. She straightened her face, but it was no good, the grin came again. It didn't matter. A sweet little girl smile was useful for penetrating a creampuffs dull wits. "Mummy's busy and that Jennifer-girl is in Yorkshire with Samson. Is there no one else around?" "Of course there is," he replied meekly, wondering what was going on in her head. "There are people in the end room, and Mrs Gitty and Marianne have just gone into the one next door." He forced himself to sound calm, although he was quaking with nervous tension inside. The girl was always so domineering, and he knew from experience just how wicked she could be. Sophie gave him a stare, snide and sexual and assertive all at once. "We don't need anyone else." She opened the door to the room nearest to them and peeped inside. It was empty save for a narrow bed and an old dressing table. "Ideal," she approved, "A nice little havey-cavey place just for the two of us." He hesitated and then became breathless as she dragged him through the door by an arm. "Miss Sophie... What...?" "Don't ask questions, just do as you're told." was the curt response. He felt his heart sink. She was being bossy just like before and he could only hope she wasn't going to spank him again. He was averse to have anything to do with girls. His mother said he was still too young and immature for that kind of thing anyway. The trouble was, girls sometimes liked him. In the park after school they'd get him down in the long grass, unfasten his clothes and explore him. Sophie was a bit like that, only she never bothered with long grass. "I was hoping to meet someone like you today," the girl said. "Someone like me! I don't know what you mean." "Don't be a dope. I want adventure, and I don't mean rock-climbing. Stand still, feet together and hands down at your sides. I want you to be a good girl for me." She shoved him inside and he heard a key turn in the lock, then she moved up close to him, deliberately invading his space, and he felt tension - sexual tension, a physical reaction he had no control over. She was standing behind him, motionless. "You smell lovely. I can smell soap and perfume. It's nice. It's so grown up to be allowed to wear perfume, isn't it? What perfume are you using?" "It's called 'Parisian Nights'." Sophie sniggered. "Naughty boy! Naughty girl! I expect you know that smelling nice can make men's pricks go stiff, that's probably why you're wearing it. I expect you want to make men horny for you. Not much chance of that here, is there? Just a load of other fags to play around with." She placed a finger behind his right temple and tucked a tress of stray hair behind his ear. He was stunned by such a gesture, and strangely thrilled by her touch. Uninvited, she took a gentle bite at his neck as her quick, nimble fingers began to unfasten the tiny buttons on the back of his little frock, one at a time - slowly - wanting him to appreciate that he was being undressed. Pompom quivered. Feeling utterly docile he made no effort to help her, but neither did he make any effort to stop the girl doing it. Her words were so clever, her fingers so fast and unexpected, he could only feel confusion. "Please don't tear anything, Miss Sophie," was all he said as she brushed the straps from his shoulders and down his arms. The fabric slid like a caress down his body while the girls hands clamped on his chest, fondling his pubescent bosom just like boys always fondled it. Indecently. "You've got little girl-tits, just like Veronica's tits. She likes it when I play with hers. Do you like it? I think you do, because your nips are both standing out." She didn't wait for a reply. Her hands slid over his midriff and stroked below his breastbone, slowly spreading and moving round. Slim fingers slid down his spine, their touch sending shivers through his body, before coming to rest on the elastic band of his panties. Her thumbs went into the top and pushed down, sliding the skimpy garment over his hips, over his thighs, pushing down until nothing was hidden. From the moment of their meeting his penis had been stirring and now it sprang to attention, but her hand slipped under sack of his pink bag and she weighed his tiny spheres on the tips of her fingers. "The last time we were together I sat on your face while you played with yourself, do you remember?" Pompom cringed with shame. "I... oh... I...I... You made me do it." "Yes, and I enjoyed it. I love making pretty wimps do things that embarrass them. You sucked my gusset and I did a cum in your mouth. It was lovely." He was naked save for black stockings and high heel shoes and of course his little lacy white gloves and Sophie was delighted by his raunchy appearance. She grasped the cheeks of his neat little rump and rolled and squeezed them. "Like marshmallows," she remarked appreciatively. "What a wonderful bit of cock-taggy you are. Men would walk barefoot over broken glass to shaft you." Something solid buffeted against the shapely rounds of his buttocks, and he felt heat mount his neck and flood his cheeks. She was wearing an attachment, and he knew what it was. His penis lifted and his heart nearly stopped. He'd seen pictures of women wearing replica pricks. "What are you doi - Ooh!" Pompom quivered and melted at the touch of the thing. Sometimes he allowed other boys to put their hands inside his pants, sometimes he let them fuck him, but never a girl. Sophie quietly sniggered. "Girls like me know what boys like you need. You need lots of hard cock, and today I'm set-up to give it to you. I've got a cock. It's not a real one of course, it's only plastic, but it's got the right shape and it can do the business. My daddy owns a factory that makes them so I've always got loads to choose from. The one I'm wearing is perfect for pleasing a faggot fairy. Are you ready for it? Are you ready for something nice? Are you ready for some action?" Pompom's mind seemed to empty. She was utterly without morals. He had no defence against such a sweet and exciting seduction. They both realised he could deny her nothing. With practised aplomb Sophie pulled back his head and stuffed a rubber ball into his gasping mouth. It was silly to let her do it, he should have at least struggled a bit. But she was in charge and he knew she would make him take it eventually. She was so pushy and awe inspiring she could make him do anything. He protested, he really did, but there was no way he could prevent that horrid girl forcing that thing between his teeth. It was the size of a hen's egg and held his mouth wide open, but he stood still and docile as she fastening it in place with a leather strap that buckled behind his neck. "I don't want you making too much noise," she explained. Suddenly short with him she pushed him forward, not even trying to be gentle, prodding him into a corner, a dead end, far from any escape route. "You're taller than I am. Face the wall, crouch down a bit and stick it out." He consented timidly, wimpishly bending his knees and pushed out his backside in a vampish way. Then he felt like dying, because Sophie was bending down and spreading his buttocks and looking at his bum-hole. Liquid drizzled between his bottom cheeks. "I found some virgin olive oil in the kitchen," the girl remarked. "I've sometimes wondered why it's called virgin, but I suppose it's never just used for cooking." At once Sophie gripped his hips and moved into position that would allow her to apply pressure. Her attachment was slick and greasy, and his tender puckered rosebud instantly melted around it as it burrowed forward. Pompom pushed out some muffled groans. "Wwwooo, wharriggghaalliaa!" he gurgled wetly behind his gag. He wasn't new to anal sex. Men, yes. And boys had used him. But never girls. "Don't start putting on an act," the girl reprimanded mildly as she squeezed forward, "You like it. You like getting it from anyone. A prick's a prick. It's all the same to you." He wanted to say it wasn't true. He wanted to tell her it was wrong for girls to... But he was thoroughly gagged and couldn't say anything. "Keep still, you silly prick," Sophie snorted. "Do as I tell you. Keep still and don't make a noise. Got it?" Pompom inhaled a lung full of air through his nose and nodded, then clenched his buttocks as tight as he could, he didn't know why, perhaps to try and limit the depth of penetration - but all it did was to provide some extra friction for Sophie's well-oiled plastic boner. The girl's breathing seemed laboured with lust as he loosened to let her rake around inside. She wasn't hanging about. She was shagging him with pitiless gusto, practising debauchery in a way a young girl shouldn't even know about. But then abruptly she withdrew. Was that it? Had she finished? Sophie grabbed hold of him and made him stand up. "I'm removing the ball- gag because I miss not hearing you squeal when I'm doing things. But you must only squeal quietly, okay?" As the hateful gag was taken away Pompom raised his head a little bit and looked sideways at her through his lashes. "I need to sit down," he said weakly. "Go! Over there! Get on the bed." He stumbled over and laid on the mattress, and at once she leaned over him to kiss his breasts and his belly, but completely ignoring his cock, which by then was really ready for some attention. A moment later she slotted herself against the wall so that she lay full length behind him, her hands roughly rolling him onto one hip and moulding him into a position that suited her. "Ready?" she asked. "Oh, um..." "Help me get started again. I can't see where it should go, so guide it in and then ask me to do it." Shamefully, breathing heavily, he grasped the oily prong and placed the end of it in position. His rear end had known plenty of dicks in the past, but there was something especially hot about getting it from a girl. "Do it, Miss Sophie. I'm your meat. Fuck me. But please... please don't be rough." The muscles in the girls thighs bunched and flexed and he whimpered when she entered him again in a surge that took his breath away. "You mustn't ... Aaahh!" He shuddered against her and his head fell back as he gave her access. How could this be? How could he be so wanton, so ... so... It wasn't quite like that, he told himself. She was MAKING him do it. Sophie gripped him possessively, determined to make him cry out at least a little bit. Pulling him close she began a languid rocking motion, thighs undulating slowly, moving her attachment in and out, spooning him fiercely. Pompom could feel her animal lust, feel her deep inside and mastering him with sex, transporting him to a place that sizzled and burned. She grasped his hips, pulling him further onto her cock, driving forward into his slick warmth, pressing forward to possess him completely. "How does that feel for you?" she asked. "What's it like being a bit of fuck-fluff for a girl? Is it nice for you? Good, is it? Am I doing it right?" "It's - it's hard ..." he muttered lamely. "Flatterer!" She laughed, relishing her power. "Shame my friend Veronica couldn't come today. We could have found Amber and fucked you both into sissy-heaven side by side." Enjoying the reversal of the usual she shortened her strokes, but made each following lung faster, her eyes squeezing shut as she concentrated on pumping furiously and selfishly. Pompom could have shouted and cried out with distress, but he didn't, he merely panted and squealed softly just as she'd told him to. He couldn't prevent his penis from extending, and the girl couldn't resist playing with it. The physical effect of her fingers strumming up and down made his anus tighten around the thing moving inside. "Come on," she urged, "Move about more. Make it good for yourself and good for me too. I like it when you squirm. You did a nice load of gooey last time. Are you going to do one now? I bet you are." She never lost her precious grip and his body arched as she rode him. He could feel her hot breath on the back of his neck. She was excited and enjoying what she was doing. She was giving it to him as hard as anyone had ever done, and was going to cum in the way girls do. His penis was rigid and drooling, and Sophie had a hold on it and was jiggling it fiercely. She was making him screw around and she was going to make him spurt.. A sigh of accelerating excitement, a final urgent flurry of flesh on flesh. He felt a stirring in his body as everything seemed to rush to its centre. "Yaaah, ooh!" The angelic doll wilted and his senses swam in wonder. "OOOOH, Miss Sophie, oh yes." *** Madame Duponte had been watching through the front room window all Sunday morning, but it was 2 o'clock in the afternoon before the white van arrived. "There you are, thank goodness. I was expecting you much earlier than this," she said when it drew up to the curb. Jennifer Hancock wiped her neck with a handkerchief as she wearily climbed from the cab of the transit van. "We would have been back much earlier had not Samson's route been so convoluted. I don't communicate well with him and he refuses to accept my advice. Did he imagine someone was trailing us? Why did he drive to Yorkshire by way of Liverpool and return to London via Brighton?" Madame's mouth twitched ever-so slightly. "That's the way he is. He's just not very clever at understanding road maps. Have a cup of tea, and then we must load the van. We've a performance at Dovecott this evening." Jennifer visibly sagged. "So sudden! That wasn't on your programme when I left. Samson and I are both fagged-out." "A great deal as happened in the short time you've been away. Horace as suffered a blow. The police raided his shop in Hook Lane yesterday and took away a large portion of his stock - said it had been stolen from Babbington's warehouse near the old East India Docks. Luckily for him he had warning enough to burn all the pornography he had stored there." The destruction of the photographs stirred a feeling of satisfaction with Jennifer. She didn't mention them, but simply knowing that indecent pictures of Madame's darlings were no longer going to circulate in the streets and public houses of the city brought a sense of great relief. "Horace is in trouble with the law?" "Don't worry about him, he's slimy enough to slide out of any kind of trouble short of genocide - but the affair will leave him badly out of pocket, so he's demanding the repayment of all the money I owe him by next week - back rent, the loan I had from him, interest on the loan - everything. "Well, you'll know from the accounts we're barely breaking even at the moment. The Follies never runs into profit until the end of the season." "But, you have a great deal of money." Madame Dupont sighed. "All with the bank, and all tied up with the house purchase. I can't touch it unless I stop the deal. So you see I'm in something of a dilemma." "Samson isn't fit to drive again today, he's dead on his feet. He's ex- HAUST-ed," Jennifer said, enunciating an 'h' to emphasis things. "He's been driving practically non-stop for the past two days and if he takes the van out again without having a proper rest he'll mow down half the population of Essex." Madame observed her manservant staggering slowly up the steps to the front door and saw the truth of it. His eyes were bloodshot, the lids drooping wearily. He was physically shattered but he wouldn't complain, he never did. He'd carry on like a robot until he short-circuited and the machinery inside him ceased up, which was dangerous. Her head turned and she gazed hopefully at her young assistant. "You don't drive, do you?" "Hardly safely, and not at all legally. And if I did drive I'd get lost just going down the Finchley Road." The woman's face became pinched with irritation. "Well if Samson can't come you will have to accompany me. I can't do everything on my own. And there are two vans to go tonight so someone will have to help with the driving. Cancelling the show will destroy my credibility, quite apart from which I'm in dire need of the money." Indefatigable, practical, constantly inspired, she nevertheless breathed a deep sigh she followed Samson and disappeared inside the house to do the thing she was always so good at. Pushing rocks up mountains.