Candy From A Baby free porn video

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Candy From A Baby Nancy Porter rang the doorbell and waited. She had driven up the long drive after pointing her identity card at the entrance gate camera. The gate had soundlessly opened without a word from the attached speaker. She knew Chauncey had to have pushed the button. Who else could it be? Th house was empty, she knew, so she felt mildly irritated not to be greeted. The Agency had instructed her to park in the rear and use the service entry, according apparently to Chauncey's directions. This irritated her, too. Nancy was no servant, not by a long shot, and she wouldn't start her second stint as Chauncey Reginald DePeau's nanny by sneaking in the back. Screw that! She was a professional and proud of it. Chauncey was lucky to get her. She had signed on for the year's assignment with some reluctance because it had been so soon after her last assignment, the one with the obstreperous Deryl, a real handful. No, she'd enter by the front... She turned to survey the beautifully landscaped grounds. Her irritation highlighted what she didn't like about the whole thing. Work was work, she thought, but it would all be so boring especially a whole year of it, too... The back of her calves hurt from the heels. She didn't mind wearing them off-duty for real men, but she hated having to wear them for sissies like Chauncey. It was such a waste. She couldn't wait to take them off. It was the Agency's fault. According to Agency etiquette, heels were de rigueur, especially for the first visit. Of course, as she had argued, this was not her first visit. This was a return engagement. The Agency's euphemism might be "acquaintance time for Nanny and her small charge...," but that wasn't accurate. And that irritated her, too. Chauncey's wealth had dictated her clothing choice Nancy was not a tall woman and didn't look particularly strong and dominant. She wore the Agency uniform for first meetings---a short pleated navy blue skirt, tan hose, heels, and a simple white blouse that looked like a man's shirt except that the sleeves puffed out at the wrists. The fit, however, was tight and drew attention to her prominent breasts. Not that Chauncey would notice much... First impressions, however, were very deceiving in Nancy Porter's case. She was fully trained in jujitsu and had earned high honors in successfully handling opponents almost three times her size. There was not an ounce of muscle on her small frame that was not put to good use subduing her "tricks," as the Agency girls informally called the Agency clients. The song 'The second time around' played on the radio of the car on the drive from the City and she couldn't get the lyric 'Love is lovier the second time around' out of her head. That was also irritating. 'Love,' she thought with disdain. It was such bullshit in the case of sissies... A mockery of the real thing... A simulacrum... An empty shell... What Chauncey DePeau felt for her---the reason he asked for her again---had nothing to do with love or real passion or even sex... Of course, in its promotional literature the Agency was not above playing on the hopes and fantasies of prospective clients: "The relationship between nanny and client is a delicate one and often takes time to establish and bloom. But once it does, the intimacy, the personal and tender care extended, the reciprocity between the two, often evolves seamlessly from one kind of care-giving and dependency into something quite different and long-lasting." It was all a lie! Nancy thought grimly. These obsessive, selfish little perverts--- "pervs" as the Agency girls dismissively called them while talking privately among themselves out of earshot of Agency personnel--- were no more capable of negotiating a loving, reciprocal relationship with a real flesh-and-blood woman, with all its give-and-take and compromise, than the two-year olds they pretended to be. No, no one would ever 'love' loveable little Chauncey because loveable little Chauncey's fondest wish is to be treated, in every respect, like a baby girl, and baby girls---the last time any woman cared to think about i---hardly were very masculine or made very good lovers... Well, Chauncey would be getting his fondest wish satisfied in spades. After Nancy Porter's 'training' and 'care' (two Agency euphemisms for female domination and control), Chauncey DePeau, despite his vast wealth, would be really stuck. He would be no more capable of any kind of romance with a real woman, let alone marriage to her, than a real child would be... Not when she was finished with him. He would be helpless on his own... He would be stuck in babyhood forever... Not only would marriage not be an option he wouldn't even be able to attract a girlfriend... After a few days with Chauncey, even the most sympathetic young woman---or the greediest--- would give up the effort to rescue him. He'd have to suck on the Agency tit forever. Call the Agency, Chauncey, and order a nanny... It doesn't matter who... Anybody will do... Sign up for a lifetime of servitude and dependency... It'll all be so familiar... All your needs will be met... You'll have fun... Like taking candy from a baby, she thought. Nancy smiled to think about it. She was good and she knew it. In fact, one of the Agency's best, what they called a "star." Yes, as the reader may have already guessed, she took a grim satisfaction in her abilities... a professional pride... She would crush Chauncey, pulverize him, and then refashion him into what the Agency most wanted... Failure was not an option... Yes, she could guarantee the outcome---he'd be a sissified pansy forever, "a sweet, compliant baby girl," when she finished with him; he'd never grow up. That's why the Agency valued Nancy so highly. She could accomplish on a consistent basis what the Agency therapists admiringly called in their psychobabble, "the creation and implantation in impressionable clients of the Peter Pan syndrome," which translated met making wealthy pervs lifetime dependents on the Agency! Indeed, the clients she worked with over extended periods became "babies" and they stayed "babies"! Since normal women are repelled by the masochistic antics of adult babies and these pervs' only hope for sex is masturbating by themselves, they are forced out of shame and need to come back to the Agency again and again to get their "baby fix" (another contemptuous term Agency girls use) with the nannies. Once Nancy is finished with them, these guys are stuck in babyhood and will never escape! She was pleased to know they come back again and again and beg for Nancy... Her services, she knew, were at a premium... No other girl brought in more income to the Agency... By this time in her career she knew the Agency's line by heart: "Good impressions call for a Nanny to tower over her prospective charge'--- ["charge" was the Agency's tongue-in-cheek name for what the rest of the girls called, in hooker patois, the "trick" or the "perv"]---'so the higher the heels the better. Besides, heels are sexy and go with the miniskirt and a tight top that shows off a nanny's breast. Makeup is helpful, too, though not mandatory. Feminine accessories of course pique the prospective client's interest, they often titillate him and excite his erotic fantasies. After all, it's only for first impressions. The foot-in- the-door kind of thing with impressionable, gullible, clients of all ages... You push your way in... Play seductress if you have to, seize the initiative, take charge---they all want that---stimulate his little bits and pieces a bit if you need to at first, find out his fetishes and play into his fantasies, make promises if necessary, just keep 'em vague---who cares what they are? They don't matter in the end because nothing sexual ever transpires---do all this until you're hired and the contract's signed, the money's up front, and there's no backing out... Once the initial 'interview' is over and the contract's signed and in your hand and you're in for sure, you can wear what you want... comfortable jeans and flannel shirts and running shoes if you want... the most asexual costume you can think of... It doesn't matter: Your little charge will be in no position to protest..." The guys who founded the Agency, all of them millionaires now, discretely catered to the fantasies of very wealthy men and were nothing if not cynical and opportunistic. This was her ninth assignment and by far the most lucrative. Fifty-two weeks at $4000 per week and tax-free... A cool 208K... She negotiated it with the Agency's lawyers, and they in turn presented it as a done deal to the trustees at Chauncey DePeau's bank. Take it or leave it, the lawyers had told them. The trustees knew all about Chauncey's "eccentricities," as they euphemistically called them always hoping he would "grow out of them." As a body, they had called on him at his home when they learned he wanted to sign on for a year's stint with the Agency---his first stint of six months had been bad enough, but a year under the "tutelage of a forceful young woman," as they put it, would easily endanger a portion of his wealth. Chauncey was twenty-three and in his majority, and, though normally compliant, he was stubborn when he had his mind made up. The bank trustees looked at each other, rolled their eyes as if to say 'It's not our money, thank God,' and signed on the dotted line. She had to hand it to the Agency; it knew how to play hardball and when it took off its velvet gloves and got down to the matter of cash inflow it could be super-tough. She had no idea what it made on the DePeau deal, but she suspected it was probably in the millions... But so what? She didn't begrudge the Agency making money---she admired the entrepreneurs who had founded the business---as long as it was also a sweetheart deal for her... And it would be... Each week's check would be automatically deposited by the Agency---no questions asked, no record kept---into her private Bank of Bahrain offshore account. (The latter of course had been set up by the Agency in her name). Plus, as we have said, Chauncey's was a 'return engagement,' and the Agency loved return assignments. They were the plumbs... easy pickins'... sure money in the bank... hassle-free affairs where everybody involved knew what to expect and nobody tried to 'back out' at the last moment ("renege on the contract," as the Agency's lawyers called it). Clients in return engagement were committed, they knew what to expect, they needed Agency services and they knew what they were getting. There was no last-minute hand wringing and cold feet to worry about.And the girls who achieved return gigs were highly valued by the Agency, got paid the best, and lucked out with the choicest assignments, the easiest and the surest, the plumbs... where the guys---the "no-sweat pervs," as the girls referred to them---did as ordered on first asking and didn't have to be whipped and chained and beaten to do what they were told. And return assignments were easier for another reason---the guys were already trained; the girl and her "trick" both knew what to expect, there'd be no surprises, and a girl could just pick up where an earlier nanny had left off... That is, if the nanny were good... And Nancy knew she was very good... Very good indeed... Her return assignment with Chauncey had been built on very solid foundations, namely, her own... Indeed, Chauncey Reginald DePeau had been ideal to work with from the get- go in the first go-around. As we indicated, it had been a sixth month stint, and Nancy remembered it as a piece of cake... like taking candy from the proverbial baby... Chauncey was sole heir to the DePeau fortune in timber, oil, and plastics... Twenty-one years old at the time, shy and lonely and reclusive, no friends or family to interfere... A perfect doll... A prissy little pansy eager to please... He was every Agency girl's dreamboat... Sweet and cooperative, small and weak, easily dominated and bossed around, a harmless, dependent little sissy even a small, less practiced Agency girl than Nancy Porter would have no difficulty physically overpowering... an emotionally stunted little perv who fell into immediate pathetic puppy- love with his nanny and jumped to comply with her every 'request' to prove his undying 'love' and 'gratitude' for her being there and deigning to 'care' for him... How sweet! During the first go-around, Nancy had skillfully used his adoration for her---which had only grown in intensity for the six months---to ensure his servility. He had been her sixth charge and she had him eating out of her hand and whipped into shape in less than a week. It took only a couple of days to break his will and he was incontinent by the end of the week. Firmly holding onto the baby reins attached to his harness, she forced him to crawl about from day one. He couldn't stand and walk; he wouldn't dare because that was one of Nanny's many "no-no rules." Despite the extra time it took---a nanny has nothing but time with six months to fill---she had him sit on his rear end on the first step of the stairs and either, with his back to the top, bounce step by step up to the nursery or, facing front-wards, bounce down to the kitchen. Nancy found the spectacle a total gas and important in reinforcing his on-going humiliation. She would shower him with mocking encouragement: "C'mon, Chauncey, dear, your crib is waiting and we haven't got all day. I don't know anybody who makes more noise climbing stairs on her fat tushie! 'Thud-thud-thud!' 'Plop-plop- plop!' 'Squish-squish-squish!' Oh, what a noisy baby! I hope that isn't poop I smell plopping about in your diapers; your behind will be a smeary mess by the time you reach the top, and I don't relish having to clean you up. Hurry along now... Upsadasy! Up you go!" At the end of the six-months every stipulation in the contract had been met. 'Dependence established, incontinence maintained, obedience extracted, and all the rules followed...' It was hilarious: Chauncey had graduated with honors and could serve as a poster-boy for the Agency's success in turning sissies to "babies"... a deluxe success story... an inspiration to every natural slave out there... Nancy was delighted to learn later through the grapevine that Chauncey had been forced to remain in diapers and baby panties for a year afterwards because it had taken him months of painstaking effort, with plenty of setbacks, to relearn how to hold his pee and poop. And an Agency girl told her that she had heard he was so unsteady on his weakened, unused legs after six months of being made to crawl that it took weeks for him to regain the strength and agility to walk! She recalled saying good bye after the six months. He sat diapered on the parquet floor, his bare legs splayed in front of him and wearing his best party dress in honor of her leaving. He held his right upper arm tucked against his side, his forearm raised, and wiggled his fingers in the iconic-sissy gesture of waving bye-bye... Nancy had taught him that gesture and he was apparently oblivious to how little-girlish it made him appear. Chauncey had always been a sissy, but now it had become pure second nature. He had Nancy largely to thank for it. She chuckled to think of her achievement---a baby for life. She remembered the hang-dog expression on his face as she left. 'How will he negotiate his highchair without her?' she wondered. 'Good luck, Little Fairy Girl! You'll need it.' On the whole Nancy had good memories of the Chauncey. He had been easy to handle and she was even fond of him, never so fond of him, of course, as when she was leaving. But that wasn't unusual; all Agency girls felt the same way, parting being such sweet sorrow, as they say... But Chauncey really had been sweet: There were times, in fact, when he was so weak and sweet and innocent-seeming that she had come close to forgetting he was a perv and regarded him as a genuinely helpless toddler really needing her assistance. And he had genuinely 'fallen in love' with her. His puppy-dog look around her was proof... so was the way he longingly eyed her when he thought she didn't notice, as was his ready obedience and willingness to cooperate and his shy blushes, the way he couldn't look her in the eyes, when she handled his parts during diaper changes and bathings... Before she had left, he insisted on sitting in his highchair with pen and checkbook and cutting her a bonus check for $5,000; he called it her going-away gift and indicated that if she wanted to stay he would cut another check for twice that amount. It was tempting because it would have been extra income she wouldn't have had to inform the Agency of... She ended up refusing, of course; the Agency had scheduled her for a new client. But she was genuinely touched and grateful. She rewarded him with a gift of her own. "Close your eyes, darling, pucker your lips, and raise your head slightly so Nanny can kiss you. Yes, Nanny wants a kiss-kiss!" It was unintentionally hilarious! Chauncey, strapped helpless in his highchair, wiggled in delight like a puppy anticipating a tasty treat, his first kiss ever and this one from a girl he worshipped! He squeezed his eyes tightly shut, puckered his lips, and raised his head, as instructed. His whole body tensed. She took his cheeks in both her hands, pulled his face close so he could scent her perfume, and presented him with a pert, chaste kiss on the lips. He moaned in ecstasy and she placed another on his forehead leaving a trace of lipstick. She then patted his cheeks softly in a patronizing gesture that was lost on Chauncey. She had to tell him it was okay to relax and open his eyes. She giggled to see the expression on his face---pure pleasure mixed with regret that it had all been so quick and was over... Poor Chauncey, he had thought there was more to come... Just another miscalculation in a lifetime already rich in such disappointments... Nevertheless, as we have said, Nancy had been flattered and touched by his generosity. *** Two years had elapsed since she had last seen Chauncey and now she was back for a second gig, the longest in her career. Six months had been her longest gig prior to this one and that had been with Chauncey. It was difficult imagining a year with him. Just thinking about it made her a little cuckoo. Girls at the Agency warned that gigs lasting longer than six months burned a girl out, and Nancy could see their point. The money, however, was simply too good to pass up. She would have to risk it. Besides, if it had to be a year it was better it be with a Chauncey DePeau and not somebody more demanding... Most guys like playing the macho role at first in front of Agency girls. It's like they have to get it out of their system before they can let the embarrassing turn-on of diapers and plastic panties and party dresses take over. The girls all get it. They call it "saving face." It's why nannies have to come on like gang busters---they soften the tricks up with verbal insults and taunting and then they practically have to assault the guys physically, wrestle and overpower them, because it assuages the guys' sense of shame to be coerced... That's how they deal with the stigma. The 'you-made-me-do-it, I-didn't-do-it-willingly' kind of thing... Such typical guy-reasoning of course is rank self-deception---the girls know it and on some level so do the guys, and the girls, once their power is established, often use it to tease their "babies" and rub their faces in it---but it helps the guys get over the initial hurdle. Even for a seasoned, well- built, experienced Agency nanny, the first week or two can be exhausting and incredibly draining---the rule of thumb at the Agency is that the girls earn nine tenths of their salary in the first two weeks---but once a girl navigates her way through the storm at the beginning, the rest of the way is usually pretty clear sailing. Not always but usually... However, fortunately for Agency girls, not every male is macho and needs the type of behavior modification indicated above. A few are natural-born sissies. (Chauncey was one of them) who see no point in pretending otherwise. As we said, Agency girls have a word for them---"dreamboats." They're the kind of perv who sees no point, if they ever did, trying to be something they're not; everything about them screams passive and weak and momma's boy---the world knows, they know, so they have nothing to prove to anybody, least of all to women, particularly to their nannies. Like swishy gay guys, girls may regard them as friends of a sort, but they hardly see them as desirable dating material let alone marriage bait. So what's the point of pretending? So it's true: Chauncey's fate as a sissy---he was not gay---had been sealed, his destiny prescribed, long before Nancy the Nanny had entered his life. He had given up the game of being "a normal male," if there is such a thing, in early adolescence, say, fourteen or so, when nascent sexual feelings began to stir. In fact, he can even remember the exact day: He was alone in his bedroom; he stripped himself naked, critically gazed at his body in the full-length mirror and compared himself to what other boys his age looked like. He was not reassured. Whereas other boys were developing muscle and male definition, he could easily have been mistaken for a third-grade child and not a very big one, either. It would have been a joke for him to posture as a tough, swaggering high-school kid. At seventeen things were no better for him. He would have stood out on a beach in summer, an object of mirth and ridicule---guys would have first gaped in disbelief and then hooted, while the girls, concerned about the boy's feelings, would have tried not to laugh. Or, to be a little kinder, the reader may get a better idea of how different Chauncey looked from his peers by trying this (admittedly peculiar and immodest) thought experiment. Pick at random ten naked boys Chauncey's age, line them up in a row, and insert Chauncey among them, say, the fourth. Next let ten girls the same age and suitably prepared for the shock, each alone---so they can't pick up on any visual cues from each other---inspect the boys carefully, front and back. Then ask each girl, out of earshot of the boys and before they've a chance to converse with one another, which boy was the least erotically appealing, the one they would least wish to be seen dating in public, the one who looked least masculine. The reader should get the point. Do we need to ask which of the boys would "win" hands down? The reasons were not hard to detect. Throughout adolescence and into his early adulthood Chauncey looked decidedly immature and unmanly, thoroughly soft and effeminate and---unlike with many youths who shed their baby fat and grow out of their ungainly, awkward early adolescence on their way to manhood---he seemed to go in reverse. In fact, all the most embarrassing physical traits of childhood and adolescence only accelerated as he got older. Chauncey was now twenty-three years old but, as we have indicated, no one would have suspected because he looked years younger. Most would have judged him not even to have reached puberty! For starters, he measured just shy of five feet and weighed a little over a hundred and ten pounds. Anyone paying him more than a passing glance would be struck by a jarring contradiction: His upper body was pear-shaped like a child's but below the waist he seemed to have the voluptuous body of a full-grown woman! He had narrow shoulders, along with a little boy's smooth, flat torso undefined by muscle. His thin white arms, delicate hands, and tiny feet would have been appropriate for a girl half his age. Yet a girl his own age would have envied him his legs---he had rounded, dimpled knees, and the legs themselves, beautifully proportioned to his size, were hairless and smooth and creamy white and tapered down to exquisitely slim ankles. His derriere was also that of a well-developed girl's---plump and pink, the two globes deliciously feminine and invitingly spankable. On the other hand, as if to compensate for his over- sized bottom, his male "package" in front was shockingly small, hardly visible, despite being devoid of any pubic hair. When Nancy first saw Chauncey naked in front she thought his wee-wee---she never thought of it as a penis let alone a cock---compared unfavorably in size to her own four-year old cousin's after emerging from his bath on a cold winter morning! Nature indeed dealt the boy another bad hand: his pea-sized testicles were also invisible even on close inspection. Apparently they had never fully descended in childhood and were tucked away inside the warm cavity between his legs. Nancy knew enough anatomy to know that Chauncey was thereby rendered sterile. She supposed it was best, with his great fortune, he was the way he was; if not, he might have wished to sire a great family. [As a side-note, we should add here that every Agency contract routinely calls for the purchase and fitting of a chastity device on clients during the first days of an Agency girl's assignment---both as an added physical precaution for the nannies in case a rare client should get rambunctious and also to avoid any liability issues for the clients themselves whose assaults had to be warded off. In the case of Chauncey, Nancy had tried to comply during her first assignment, but given his small equipment it is not surprising she had a difficult time obtaining a suitable device tiny enough to fit. It took weeks and a couple of failed attempts with devices bought at the typical Agency-supported outlets. Finally Nancy remembered an obscure, little-known specialty adult shop/tattoo parlor tucked away in a suburban strip mall on the City's outskirts that she had known about but never used. She was able to have the device custom-designed and delivered within a week]. We would be remiss if we also did not describe Chauncey's face. It was moon-shaped and oddly flat looking, like some kind of weird Paul Klee print. But, like his body as a whole, it too was a study in contrasts. For a young man his age, skin was noticeably unlined and his cheeks and chin were soft and beardless. But what made the face truly effeminate was his hair, the tawny-colored, Shirley Temple-like sausage curls that framed his face---the result of the boy's dubious effort at seventeen, aided by a strong-willed beautician, to style his natural curls into an androgynous look that she convinced the inexperienced boy would start a trend and soon be the rage among young Lotharios. Chauncey was bright enough to be a little skeptical, but he nevertheless went along and later---seduced by the 'glamour' of his look, as the beautician reassured him---decided not to change it. These curls, small and tight against his scalp, gave his face a saucy, pert look that screamed Shirley Temple. He felt that look now would conform well to his new status as baby in the house, and he was not wrong. Keeping with this little girl-look, he possessed a child's tiny round chin, a doll-like cupid bow of a mouth, and smooth, even puffy baby cheeks. On the other hand, his upper face had a decidedly mature, big-girl look: a perky, upturned nose produced a somewhat haughty affect. He had big oval-shaped eyes, hazel-colored and exotic-looking, with prominent black eyelashes that just begged for mascara and makeup, and a narrow unlined forehead over which hung---again, another jarring contrast--- little-girl bangs that fell just above his finely arched eyebrows. But if we stopped here the reader would miss the unique character of Chauncey's effeminacy. What made Chauncey stand out above the rest was his manufactured skin color, which was that of a Hollywood-style, geisha girl's! And it will be instructive to tell how this anomaly came about. The same beautician who styled his hair into Shirley Temple sausage curls saw another easy way to extract even larger sums from her na?ve and obsessed client. She suggested that, if he really wanted to do the 'sissy thing' right, he could 'rejuvenate' and 'beautify' his skin by a month- long process of immersing himself daily in special baths containing exotic mixtures of oleaginous creams, oils, and ointments from the Orient, to which of course she alone had access and could obtain at cost. She assured him that many women were unhappy with the dull, tired, traditional look of the average male. They were tired of the average male; they wanted something different, something more exotic and attractive. What, she asked, could be more exotic than silky smooth, milk-white skin, along with his sausage curls? This new look, she promised, was likely to set a trend and attract girls by the car-load. Chauncey, easily duped, paid her a small fortune. She supplied the goods and then disappeared without a trace while he dived into his month long regimen of daily baths only at the end to discover to his horror that instead of the smooth, unblemished skin he had been promised, his complexion was now that of a nineteenth century antique doll---shiny as porcelain, waxy-looking, and creamy white! What was worse, no amount of scrubbing or bleach could remove it. The beautician had neglected to inform him that the powerful dye, seeping into his pores for a month, had no antidote. It was permanent! We have perhaps said enough for the reader to understand Chauncey's unwillingness to venture outside and risk being a freak-show object of curiosity. But sadly this isn't the end of our description of Chauncey's appearance. We need to say more. So far we have described his limbs, face, and skin and how bizarre and effeminate they looked. But a human body, for better or worse, is a gestalt---something more than the sum of its parts. Seen in all its glory on that fictional beach we mentioned above, Chauncey's body as a whole would have provided him even less reassurance. It was bad enough that he looked like a little girl. But there was something worse, something subtle and indefinable, barely discernible to many and easily missed especially by guys, but it was a rare woman who would fail to notice it. Chauncey looked babyish---there is no other word for it---he looked at twenty-three like an overgrown toddler. No girl who gave him more than a casual glance could mistake that look---it made him repulsive and at the same time curiously fascinating... He was slight in build, to be sure. But his body's short frame had a pudgy and "unfinished" look to it, almost as though it lacked a full skeleton. This is the way babies look... Where sharp angles and defined muscle mass should have been for someone his age and gender, Chauncey instead had soft edges and rounded curves. His body had a flabbiness and puffiness to it, like one of those big balloons high above the Macy Day Parade. But that wasn't all. Chauncey walked like a toddler. His movements were awkward and herky-jerky, he waddled and swayed unsteadily as if drunk, and---like some comic caricature of a '50s sci-fi movie monster---he twisted his body side to side, his arms swinging out from his sides as if bracing for a fall. On a beach, physically effete and waddling along like an infant, he would attract immediate attention and people would stare fascinated to see him make his way in the sand. People would not be able to shake the uneasy feeling that this weird sight on the beach lacked something---a mother beside him to take his hand! *** Chauncey Reginald DePeau... Sole heir to the Depeau fortune in timber, oil, and petrochemicals used in everything from plastics to fertilizers... Now that Chauncey had passed the age of his minority, the trust and all its assets, hitherto administered by the Country's largest and most prestigious bank, was now his. He could milk it at his discretion. Of course, Chauncey would want for nothing. Price would never an obstacle, it would never stand in his way, it would never even be considered... The world was his oyster... The irony of course was that, though the world may have been his for the taking, Chauncey was a deeply flawed little man, a neurotic reclusive, for whom the world, even the smallest part of it beyond his palatial grounds, would always be beyond his grasp. It would always be off-limits. He was a prisoner in his own house as surely as if he lived in a cage. Chauncey was pathologically shy. He was morbidly fearful of being made fun of, and unfortunately that fear was not baseless. One glance at Chauncey would only confirm that he would be the butt of some jokes and teasing. Plus, Chauncey loved to crossdress despite the shame it made him feel (or perhaps because of the shame). His father had died when Chauncey was a baby so that male role model was lost to him. His mother, never strong or robust and never much engaged in raising the boy, was an invalid for most of his childhood and adolescence before dying when he turned eighteen. As a consequence, she had farmed out his care to a series of largely indifferent nannies, female tutors, and one no-nonsense, overly strict governess, all of whom did nothing to enhance any male self-image he might have developed. By sixteen his mother was confined to a sick bed, and despite her tepid and ineffectual protests he had collected from eBay and other interest sights a huge selection of girlie and baby clothing in which he began parading about the house and occasionally, when he felt particularly daring, even before his mother. In the privacy of his bedroom, he spent hours trying on his new wardrobe, everything from baby rompers to sophisticated ensembles fit for Vogue, from ankle-length sheer d?collet? gowns to little-girl party dresses with puffed sleeves and short, thigh- high hems. He would stand or sit staring at himself in the full-length mirror, posing at different angles and in different costumes. In a mildly schizoid fashion, he would first fantasize his image in the mirror, say, as the belle of the ball and then, alternately, imagine his male persona before the mirror a dashingly handsome young man who would sweep her off her feet. At the same time that he would be projecting his female persona--- himself in drag---onto the mirror, her one-dimensional image would be reflected back at him as a real, flesh-and-blood young woman---the belle of the ball, the dream girl he wished to possess---and he would be---on this, the real side of the mirror, but only in his mind---the imagined hero who would take her! This dialectic of image playing off reality, reality playing off image, and then image off of image, took on increasing strength until finally his little erection would explode into his lovely, soft undergarments. Exhausted performing his two-character masturbatory "play" in front of the mirror, Chauncey would swoon and sink to the floor. Over and over, day after day, he dressed up in his finery and played these pathetic roles in dramas of his own making. Eventually solitary play-acting became so habitual, it became so safe to lock himself away in his bedroom and masturbate to the fantasy du jour, that he came to prefer masturbation to the risk of a real relationship with a girl... He needn't have worried. Despite his tempting wealth, the world---least of all any attractive women---made no attempt to beat a path to his door. There was one traumatic incident, however, that we would be remiss not telling our reader, and that for two reasons. First, it cemented forever Chauncey's pathologic worry of being ridiculed and made fun of in public. Second, it will give the reader a better idea why, given Chauncey's experience and temperament, the Agency was so attractive to him, both for its quiet discretion and commitment to privacy and secrecy, as well as for its insistence that baby assignments longer than a week be conducted on the clients' premises. Sometime during his late teens Chauncey began to feel the temptation to move his dress-up performances from the privacy of his bedroom to the outside. Of course, he did not want to share them with an audience friendly or otherwise. That was not the point. Being outside did not mean being in public. Instead, after the relative confinement and claustrophobia of his bedroom, he wished to expand his horizons and enjoy the delicious caress of soft breezes on his bare legs and arms, the summer's heat penetrating his every pore, and fresh air caressing his face. Moreover, being outside, no matter how safe from exposure he was staying within the grounds of his property, was risky compared to his bedroom and he found the risk of possible exposure in his finery scary but also sexually titillating and exciting. Finally, being outside also gave wider scope to his fantasies. For example, he could imagine himself a charmingly lonely and helpless Victorian girl, lost in romantic reflection, stealing a forbidden midnight stroll on the grounds of her strict father's estate. Then he could picture himself a bold cavalier, a Robin Hood of masculinity and power, emerging on horseback at the edge of woods to the left; then he could imagine himself sweeping down on her and carrying her off! The DePeau estate was located far from the City at the end of a hilly, winding country road dotted here and there by similar estates. It was in the exclusive so-called "horse country" where wealthy gentlemen farmers worked in the City all week and escaped to their beloved thoroughbreds on weekends. Bordering the road was a tall iron privacy fence topped with forbidding spikes and backed by thick foliage and leafy shrubbery spaced sufficiently close together to keep the occasional passersby from scrutinizing the grounds. It also had an electric gate, with the latest digital technology to guard against intrusions. From the gate to the house was a half-mile long, serpentine drive with large overhanging maples and elms spaced ten and fifteen yards apart. The house was effectively concealed from view. Chauncey planned his outings with uncharacteristic daring. A little after midnight on warm, moon-lit summer nights, Chauncey took to walking up and down his drive in his finery. At first he was extremely anxious and every unusual night sound nearly led to panic with a hurried return to the house. But eventually over several days he accustomed himself to the night and gradually calmed himself. He never felt completely safe and comfortable in his costumes and always had some fear of detection from the road. However, his rational mind assured him he had nothing to fear--- Chauncey's estate was at the road's end and the road even during the day, not to mention at night, was never well-traveled by cars and even less so by pedestrians. Nevertheless, as we have indicated, the risk of detection, however remote, did provide our sissy's pathetic little nighttime soirees from the house with a frisson that was immensely stimulating and erotic. He loved the night heat that produced tiny beads of perspiration on his carefully made up face, and the light night breeze that swirled his knee-high skirts and bathed his smooth arms and legs in coolness felt like a lover's caress. His little wee-wee, safely tucked away in feminine pretties, engorged and swelled to its full, unprepossessing length! But Chauncey didn't care about masculine issues of size: He was too busy waiting impatiently for the hero-cavalier on his stallion to ride forth and rescue him! One night, rather than his elaborate Victorian costume, he decided to play Little Girl Lost. He chose to wear his darling pink party dress over several petticoats. He carefully prepared himself before his make-up mirror until he had created the exact little-girl sissy look he desired. He took the antique Victorian lady's parasol and, placing it on his delicate shoulder, sallied forth from the house. It was an intoxicating night. The full moon bathed the estate in its soft glow and, though bright, seemed to conceal as much as it revealed. Chauncey, convinced he was unseen, swiveled his hips in an exaggerated way and sashayed down the drive; he smiled to think of himself mincing along the moonlit drive coquettishly twirling his parasol and tossing his pretty head with it golden locks and saucy sausage curls. He felt so seductive and desirable! He imagined a hundred male eyes in the bushes lasciviously drinking in the pretty sight of him! He was dressed as a cute little girl for a costume ball at midnight. Would his cavalier come for him? Would the latter dismount and, gallantly taking Chauncey's soft, thin white arm, crooking it through his own and letting it rest lightly on his well-muscled forearm, walk him to the ball? His imagined cavalier, so dark, strong, and handsome---so unlike himself---made Chauncey feel deliciously small and vulnerable and at the same time completely safe and protected. The boy had never felt so excited or liberated! The night was delicious warm! He felt he could melt into it and disappear... With a joyful yet subdued sway of his hips he laughed out loud with the sheer pleasure of it all and skillfully twirled his skirts about in a coquettish display of girlish pride and excitement. 'I am a girl! I love it!' He felt the night air on his soft bare legs as he swirled about and his skirts lifted. Flinging his head from side to side in dramatic abandon, he waved his arms in slow, serpentine undulations and fluttered his small, delicate hands. He swiveled his hips to and fro in an exaggerated, highly provocative fashion, as he imagined some exotic dancer on stage would do for her audience. The moon bathed him in its glow. He was both dancer and audience, male and female. Dancing with abandon and drinking it all in... Performer and voyeur---all in one! It was intoxicating! He felt utterly wonderful! Utterly feminine, utterly erotic, and utterly at peace with himself! There was nowhere else at that moment he would rather have been than alone under the summer moon on the driveway of his own estate! His eyes filled with tears---such moments in his life had been noticeable by their absence... As the boy approached within sight of the gate, he stopped abruptly. He thought he had heard a voice. It couldn't be! But then his blood chilled-- -the gate was ajar! Somebody had opened it! Somebody was on the grounds! Suddenly he heard muffled giggles in the dark behind him and swirled in a panic around to confront whoever it was. Two robust teenage girls, dressed in jeans and tee-shirts, emerged into the clear moonlight and faced him a few yards away. They raised their cell phones and readied to take his picture. Chauncey was frozen. "Steady now, dear. Smile for the camera..., this will only take a second. Then we can post them on Facebook... Hold it now... Smile, Baby...," one of the girls, a blonde, instructed as though the boy were posing before her without complaint. Her voice was commanding yet casual, as though she were doing the most ordinary thing in the world taking Chauncey's picture on this moon-lit night. Like the proverbial deer caught in the headlights, Chauncey could only gape in fear and amazement. The flashes went off and he could hear more giggling, louder now and more self-assured. They moved closer to him. Despite his terror, he found his voice. "Stop this, get away, and get off my property!" He was not pleased with the sound of his own voice. Instead of sounding full of authority and command, it came off as a cross between a whine and a squeal. He just couldn't pull off any self-assurance let alone toughness; his voice was simply too high and squeaky. He was too shocked and scared. The girls, predatory and alert, could sense Chauncey's near panic and it gave them confidence. They put away their phones and approached the boy in the most casual way imaginable, as if they knew exactly what to expect and had nothing at all to fear. Of course they didn't have anything to fear, their prey was a little bunny. He was certainly no fighter; they had known that by his clothes. He backed away in fear but was slowed by the unfamiliarity of his footing and having to back up in a mass of petticoats; he almost lost his balance. The girls stood almost a head taller than Chauncey, were obviously stronger, and were therefore in total control---in fact, as far as Chauncey was concerned and compared to his slight build and passivity, the two girls might as well have been the toughest, most brutish boys in the neighborhood! "What's with his skin?" asked the slightly taller girl, a blonde and the evident leader, to her companion. "He looks like he's seen a ghost. Look how white he is... Is that his natural skin! Jesus, he's practically glowing!" "Probably scared... 'Thinks we're gonna beat him up... Are we?" answered the other, a brunette, smiling conspiratorially and giving the blonde a knowing, sly wink that was not lost on Chauncey. They leisurely ambled up before him invading his space. They had seen boys at school intimidate smaller, defenseless kids this way and they instinctively copied them. Standing only inches from him--- he could smell the fragrance of her cologne---the blonde asked with mock sweetness as she would a child, "May I have your pretty little umbrella, Sissy?" Hoping to placate her, Chauncey handed it over without demur. She accepted it with exaggerated politeness---"Oh, thank you s-o-o-o-o-o much, Sissy! You are just s-o-o-o-o sweet!""---and struck a provocative pose of a little coquette---bending her left arm and tucking her elbow to her side while holding the parasol delicately in her right hand and resting it lightly on her shoulder, she held her knees together, tilted her head at a slight angle, batted her eyelashes, and slowly twisted her body to and fro in the iconic pose of the shy little girl. At the same time she twirled the parasol with her right hand. It was a spot-on mockery of what Chauncey had been doing seconds before on the drive when he thought wrongly he had been alone and unseen. She lowered her voice to a sultry, sexy murmur: "He loves me, he loves me not, he loves me, he loves me not..." Then, like some latter-day Julie Andrews, she suddenly spread her arms, leaped into the air and spun herself in several wild pirouettes all the time twirling the parasol about her head. Hopping and prancing about in sultry night in front of Chauncey, first on one foot then the other, twisting her body and doing skilled pirouettes balanced on her toes, her long, unbound blonde hair undulating in the night air, cascading down her back and bouncing off her shoulders. She made a strikingly pagan sight, almost eerily beautiful and pagan in the moonlight, lithe and graceful, and immensely erotic. In those seconds she morphed from pedestrian teenager to bizarre forest nymph or pagan goddess. The other girl, the brunette--- not without a little envy---was awed by the spectacle. Minutes before they had watched Chauncey dance like a little girl trying to mimic a woman---he was sweet and charming and innocently erotic. But now this wanton vixen was showing them both how sophisticated and uninhibited---how downright sexual---a real woman is, not some little cheap facsimile. Poor Chauncey, our little hermaphrodite condemned to a lifetime of androgyny, who will remain a virgin for life by the time Nancy is finished with him, could only stare in terror. Then---as if to break the spell cast by her bacchanalian revelry---she sang, in a phony sing-song child's voice, a loud and exuberant, "La! La! La! La! I feel pretty... Oh so pretty... So sissy and prissy and shy..." It was so unexpected, such a truly inspired thing to do and---if we forget poor petrified Chauncey for a moment---singing this silly lyric was genuinely hilarious: The blonde vixen had a real talent for mockery and humiliation and was a skillful dancer to boot! Finally she came to a stop directly in front of Chauncey and, panting heavily from her exertion with sweat running down her face in rivulets, she nudged him playfully. In a teenager's universe of non-verbal cues, certain non-discursive behaviors and gestures count as a kind of communication, a kind of unspoken 'language,' but of course you have to know your way about in such a universe, you have to get its meaning. For example, the kind of nudge the blonde gave Chauncey might serve three functions: It might serve as a peace offering; it might also have a flirtatious connotation---'I like you and hope you like me.' Further, it could mean a request for the boy's impression of her skillful dance, with the hope attached that he might offer a little praise. It could mean any, or all, of these things. But poor Chauncey had no idea how to read teenage tea leaves! He had no clue, he was lost. He had no way of knowing that she was vain enough to want a little praise even if it had to come from a sissy; he couldn't fathom the possibility that a girl like her might be intrigued by a boy--- so different from the boring, stereotypical boys she knew---who dared to be out in drag; he had no clue that she might be considering just for a flickering moment how much notice she could attract if she hung around after school with a sissy---people might notice her the way the noticed Goth girls and other cool types. No, Chauncey suspected none of this... In his ignorance he had no idea his fate with the blonde might be hanging in the balance. The nudge had felt like a punch, it made him stumble and almost fall, and he just barely was able to recover himself. In an effete, whiney high- pitched child's voice, he cried hysterically, "Don't! Stop it! That hurt! Leave now, I tell you... One more second, and I'll call the police! I tell you, I will! I will!" He didn't notice the blonde's face suddenly harden into sudden anger and massive contempt. Now he'd done it! Shaking her head in derision she merely laughed and repeated his words making sure to catch his voice's exact inflection. "'Oh! Oh! Oh! You hurt me! I will call the nice policeman to come and save me from the awful girls! I will! I will!'" The brunette, fully cued now to her role in this bizarre performance, replied in mock reproach, "Oh, Maureen, don't be such a pansy-wansy! No one's gonna hurt you... It's just us three girls here, after all, playing nicely together! Don't be such a panty-waist!" "But I'm so scared to death, Jackie! The two girls are so big and strong. They might hurt me... They might even spank me... Ohhh, I wish there was a big handsome boy here to protect me! He wouldn't let these girls be mean to me!" Chauncey tried to stand his ground but it was a losing battle. The angry blonde repeatedly poked her finger into Chauncey's chest challenging him to stop her, and he continually gave ground. With a powerful flick of her wrist, she hurled the valuable antique parasol through the night air. It spun like a helicopter blade and disappeared into thick brush twenty-five yards off the drive. A harried Chauncey watched its flight and, as the girls threateningly moved in for the kill, the boy lost what little composure he had left. Tears flowed down his cheeks and he began gasping for air. He was near fainting from fear. "Stop!" he almost gagged with desperation when suddenly a new idea occurred to him---maybe he could negotiate. "You're trespassing and the police will punish you... Leave now and I won't tell... I promise!" "Oh, I don't think you want the police to see you dressed like a little girl, do you? They might think you're weird and arrest you. We'll even say you tried to lure us on to your property to molest us... Who do you think they'll believe?" Chauncey was beside himself. He had to admit she was probably right; there was no way he wanted the police on his property. There would be publicity... reporters maybe... and cameras... A small scandal... they would see him crossdressed and make fun of him... The brunette laughed in mockery, "No, I don't think he wants to involve the cops... Not if he doesn't want to be taken to the big 'ole scary police station and have to wait for his mommy to come down to fetch him home..." At this point in the confrontation, both girls were bumping up against Chauncey forcing him with each contact to almost lose his balance. As we said above, they were copying bullies they had seen at school; they were doing to Chauncey what bullies did to weaker boys. The girls got to enjoy, with their very own sissy, exactly the same power rush the bigger, stronger boys got. Chauncey had been home-schooled by tutors, so he was a complete stranger to bullying. He saw this continuing physical contact by the girls as the beginning of an escalation to a more serious and dangerous assault. So, to protect himself, he simply made things worse: In true sissy fashion, he made tiny fists, bent his arms at the elbows, tucked his upper arms against his sides, and raised his forearms to his chest; then with a furious, piston-like motion he began beating the air directly in front of him. Their jaws dropped in disbelief as each stared transfixed at this comic display of pansy impotence---Chauncey carefully made sure he didn't touch either of his presumed targets. The girls looked at each other and laughed. The sissy was attempting to defend himself but was terrified that any contact with his nemeses would elicit swift and sudden vengeance and retaliation. It was an object lesson in ineffectual sissy power and just doubled their contempt for the boy. "Oh, my, my, my... You're so big and strong... And what a fighter! You're just so masculine... For a tiny, little girl, that is...," joked the blonde while her dark-haired companion nodded in agreement. "But it's not very nice, is it, for prissy little girls to fight? They might get hurt... or dirty and messy... Then Mommy'll be angry with them, won't she? We don't want Mommy mad at little Sissy, now do we? She might punish her little sissy... 'Send little sissy to bed without his din-dins. That wouldn't be nice, would it? So put your little fisties down and be a nice little girl for Maureen and Jackie... Okay?" Before he could think to react, the brunette quickly maneuvered her way behind Chauncey while the blonde in front gave him a sudden, rough push. He fell against the girl behind him and she gripped his thin upper arms in a tight vice and pinned them against his back. Chauncey went limp, there was no use struggling, he was too weak to free himself and the girls knew it. He sobbed in distress. He thought of screaming for help but realized that the nearest neighbor was a mile away down the road. Plus, he didn't want to anger the girls even more. Besides, a little voice from somewhere in the back of his mind told him it was wiser not to give these monsters the satisfaction of knowing how much they terrified him; it would only make matters worse and prolong his awful ordeal. In a more normal voice the blonde continued, "We've been watching you take your little nightly strolls for a week, Sissy Boy. Each of your outfits was so cute and each one sexier than the last... It took us three days to figure out you were a boy, for Christ's sake! When we finally did, why, the two of us had a hard time not making a rush on you from the bushes! And the way you sashayed down the drive each night in your strapless gowns swinging your butt and hips... We could hear you talking to yourself, or were you talking to somebody you wish was walking beside you and holding your hand? Some big stud, say... a real lover boy for a candy-ass like you... someone who would take you in his arms and you would resist a little but soon give up and he would plant a big kiss on that pretty mouth of yours and press up against you so you could feel how big and hard he was... Yeah, you were so glamorous and pretty in the moonlight... A lot prettier and sexier than the way you're dressed tonight. Why do you want to look like a little girl? Do you think you look sexy? Well, you don't, honey... You just look infantile and stupid, like you belong in some kind of beauty pageant for preteens... Or not even preteens but a beauty pageant for prissy four- year olds... So tonight we just had to get pictures of you. We can't wait to put them on Facebook. They'll go viral and you'll be the rage of every pedophile in the Country! Won't that be so much fun, Sissy Boy?" The brunette was beginning to tire holding the boy's arms in a hold; she whispered between her teeth for her companion to hurry up, they had to be leaving. Chauncey's hopes suddenly soared. But the blonde wasn't finished. She had one more humiliation to attend to: "Not until I check under the hem of Sissy's pretty party dress and see how big her wee-wee is. Do you even have a wee-wee, Sissy?" The brunette giggled and told her to hurry as Chauncey began ineffectively to twist and turn to free himself from the coming ordeal. The blonde bent slightly and lifted the party dress's hem which was at mid-thigh; she tantalizingly let her fingertips play along the inside of the boy's creamy thighs just above his knees. God, he really is girly, she thought. She made tantalizing little swirls and circles on the inside of his leg and provocatively made her way to his crotch. "Hmmmmm, smooth and soft... So girlie...," she teased. Chauncey wanted to kick and scream, but the girl's sexy stroking silenced him and kept him still and passive. The blonde chuckled as she felt Chauncey's body tense and heard him draw in a deep breath. This was her first time with a sissy, and she was a little surprised that, in terms of his being touched by a girl, he wasn't any different from normal guys. She would have to revise her thinking about sissies, that they were all gay. For his part, Chauncey was feeling delights at this girl's fingers caressing his thigh he had never felt before and---given his future dedication to asexual babyhood at the hands of Agency girls---would unlikely ever feel again in the flesh. But just as suddenly as these sensations washed over him, they were gone... His sexual initiation was over aborted in the act... The blonde's hand had reached Chauncey's plastic panties. No, it can't be, the girl thought, this can't mean what I think it means... She stuck two fingers beneath the panties and felt the wet diaper! Her hand recoiled as if she had touched a snake. "Ewwww... he's wearing a fucking diaper!" "No! Really?" the brunette responded incredulously. "And it's wet, for Christ sake!" "God, that's disgusting!" Chauncey's wee-wee, which had been hardening at the blonde's sensual touch, fell suddenly flaccid. The brunette let go of his arms, too disgusted to continue having the least physical contact with him, and gave him a firm shove away from her. The blonde stepped deftly out of his way as he clumsily stumbled forward and almost lost his balance. But he was free of the girl's tight grip! He began, as best he could in his petticoats and party dress, to run up the drive back to the house. He heard screaming and thought the girls were in pursuit, but the screaming turned out to be his own, not theirs. But, just in case they were behind him, he did not dare take a moment to glance back. It was like a nightmare... By the time he saw the lights of the house, Chauncey was wheezing and coughing from the exertion, flailing his arms wildly and stumbling in his Mary Janes on the slippery and unfamiliar driveway gravel. In a hysterical last burst of speed he bounded up the front steps and threw himself through the open front door. Exhausted, he collapsed in a heap on the parquet floor. He was hyperventilating, and he heaved up his late dinner while simultaneously releasing his bowels into the diapers. He was paralyzed with fear as he listened in vain for the tread of girls' approaching footsteps in the night telling him he was theirs and all was lost. The only sound he could make out, however, was the noise the cicadas made. Slowly he quieted. He was too weak to get up, so instead he folded himself into the fetal position and regressively stuck his thumb in his mouth. After an obsessive hour of torment rehearsing the night events over and over in his mind he fell into an unquiet sleep. He woke at dawn and made his way to his bedroom not forgetting to close and lock the front door just in case the girls were still about the property. He made a mental note to call the security company to do something to make the gate more secure. Do we need to add by way of conclusion to this sad story a coda? Chauncey, reclusive by nature and now completely traumatized, never dared return down the drive to retrieve the parasol? It was found a few weeks later, battered and soaking wet, by one of the estate's landscapers who took it home, repaired it, and gave it to his young daughter; it became her favorite accessory when she played dress-up in front of her full-length mirror... And so luda continua! *** No, Chauncey never forgot that night. He stayed inside his estate. He admitted his cowardice. He shied away from challenges, the thought of competition struck terror in his heart, and he avoided chance encounters with women, above all girls his own age. His goal was to stay cocooned in his mansion free from minimal social contact. Deliveries were left at the door; landscapers were paid by mail, repairmen received house keys to let themselves in while Chauncey retreated into the far reaches of the house to hide. He hid behind shutters and curtains and never answered the doorbell. The Agency, however, would prove to be Chauncey's salvation. And Nancy Porter would become the love of his life. A love, of course, she never reciprocated... And his salvation, if you can call it that, came at a stiff price---a lifetime of abject, forced babyhood, without hope of release... *** Nancy Porter knew Chauncey's history as well as anyone. She had of course worked with him intimately for six months. She had also poured over the Agency tapes and files entitled "DePeau Interviews, Second Set." Every prospective client, or returning ones like Chauncey, must submit to hours of interviews by Agency therapists. This tedious and boring process, as long as it is necessary, is designed to weed out dangerously deranged individuals. But additionally it is necessary for discovering what clients really want as opposed, say, to what they may request after only a short, superficial interview. Indeed, therapists know from experience that everybody, even those with every intention to be open and frank, distorts or even lies about his sexual needs and preferences. It takes hours and hours to ferret out the truth. She spent hours listening to Chauncey speak ploddingly of his past and his future "goals." She wanted to know everything, every detail that would be helpful in babying him, everything to make the process go smoothly. Nothing escaped her notice. She even knew of the midnight capers while dressed in drag and the traumatic encounter with the teenagers. The therapists' summary was enlightening and confirmed much of what she already knew: Chauncey was a harmless, self-absorbed narcissist, neurotically shy and reclusive, and severely ambivalent about women. Real women--- women who knew their own mind, women his own age and older, grown and mature, with real, especially sexual, needs, ones they were not shy about expressing---terrified him. That's why he wanted so desperately to be babied: He didn't want real women around him making demands on him as an adult least of all as an adult male; instead, he wanted a mommy, a nanny, an unsexed angel, someone who---around him at least, in his baby world, on his own turf, so to speak---would have no needs of her own and live to administer only to his. That's what made being a baby so attractive---he wouldn't have to do anything, and everything would be done for him. He could be extraordinarily 'graspy' and selfish and get away with it because he was a 'baby'! 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Candy

"Hi there young man, it has been so long since I have seen you. How are you doing after losing your parents so tragically? It must have been such an awful blow to you. I've been hoping you would stop by sometime so I could tell you how sorry I am. Your Mom and I were such great friends. She was like a daughter to me you know, and you dear man, are still my grandson." "Mrs. Henderson. It is good to see you too. I'm sorry I don't come to see you more often. I will stop next time I come...

3 years ago
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Candy and me2

I'm not talking that bullshit you read in porn mags where you just bring yourself as close to orgasm as you can then back off. I'm talking full-on ejaculations. There's something about my dick where it doesn't go all sensitive after I've cum. It stays hard. Rock hard. And so long as I keep on fucking or having it sucked or stroked or whatever, I can cum as many times as I want. You could say Candy's a cumslut. She loves it in her pussy, on her boobs, in her mouth, on...

3 years ago
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Candy and me1

I'm not talking that bullshit you read in porn mags where you just bring yourself as close to orgasm as you can then back off. I'm talking full-on ejaculations. There's something about my dick where it doesn't go all sensitive after I've cum. It stays hard. Rock hard. And so long as I keep on fucking or having it sucked or stroked or whatever, I can cum as many times as I want. You could say Candy's a cumslut. She loves it in her pussy, on her boobs, in her mouth, on...

3 years ago
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Candy and me0

I'm not talking that bullshit you read in porn mags where you just bring yourself as close to orgasm as you can then back off. I'm talking full-on ejaculations. There's something about my dick where it doesn't go all sensitive after I've cum. It stays hard. Rock hard. And so long as I keep on fucking or having it sucked or stroked or whatever, I can cum as many times as I want. You could say Candy's a cumslut. She loves it in her pussy, on her boobs, in her mouth, on...

2 years ago
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Candy poker party

Introduction:Four horny men, alcohol, a poker party, and a scantily clad teenage girl - what could possibly go wrong?I still can’t believe it happened. My buddies and me gangbanged my teen daughter and now I can’t decide what to do now. I guess it depends on how Candy, my daughter, reacts when she wakes up. Right now she’s still asleep in my bed on the cum soaked sheets, some of it still leaking out of her, while I’m nursing one of the worst hangovers of my life. I guess I should explain what...

3 years ago
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Candys Taste Test

Candy's Taste Test by dale10 ([email protected])***They were up in Candy's bedroom after school, while Candy's mom was at work. Jordon always liked it when Candy's mom was home, because he was a vain 18 year old jock stud who loved the way the horny divorced bitch stared at his bulging crotch.He would lean against the kitchen counter so his fucker pushed out, and he would watch the middle? aged cougar drool and wet her panties.  But he had to be careful that Candy didn't get jealous....

3 years ago
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Candy

I didn't want to be a cowboy, but I certainly wanted one to fuck me. So, to honor those sojourners of the dusty trails I wrote this.When settlers in the 1870's first used "dude," to refer to pasty-faced Easterners coming to The Rockies, they took notice of men with a distinguishable lilt (I have no doubt), of men with a different spring in their step, of men who had secrets settlers didn't know, and of men Rocky Mountain cowboys would never suspect.A 2K Easterner, I differed from my ancestors...

Gay Male
4 years ago
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Candy and Amanda

So I took a refreshing shower, put on some PJ bottoms, and padded downstairs to get something to eat. Before I even got to the kitchen, I could smell the bacon cooking. Candy was making breakfast? That’s another milestone, I thought to myself. “Smells good.” I said as I walked in to find her in front of the stove. She was wearing an old threadbare night shirt that was a couple of sizes too small for her. It barely covered her ass and on top hung from her tits like they were coat hooks. I...

4 years ago
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Candys break up

Candy started crying as she threw her phone. Candy broke up with her fiance started going around the office. As the gossip spread, word got to the office manager. Beth came over and asked if she could help. Wiping her tears Candy asked, does everyone know. Taking her hand Beth said come with me. I'm alright, she said. Pulling her up Beth said, let's get out of here for a while. Grabbing her coat Beth lead her to the elevator. Going down Candy leaned on Beth and started crying again. What you...

1 year ago
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Candy

  It was a gorgeous summer afternoon in Ann Arbor Michigan. The temperature was well into the mid 80’s. Candy was laying out on her padded lounge chair rubbing the tanning lotion into her legs. She wore her new bikini. David helped her pick it out at Macy’s. He loved seeing her wear sexy revealing clothes and the tiny little bikini was no exception.    Cindy’s husband David worked in one of the laboratories for a small research company at the University of Michigan. Married for five years and...

4 years ago
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Candy and Her Sugar Daddy Go to the First Erotic Amusement Park

When you get to be my age, birthdays come and go. Except when you live with a very sexy, wild, and much younger woman. I have been fortunate to be quite well off, and probably that’s why my girlfriend, Candy, is even with me. That’s a story for another day. When one is rich, people flock to you. I love to spoil women and they like to spoil me. It’s a win-win situation. I met up with Candy when I was at a convention in Atlantic City. I was staying at the Golden Nugget. Candy was at a blackjack...

4 years ago
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CANDY FINDS HER SON HANDY AND DANDY

by Oediplex 8==3~ The sweetest mom discovers her boy is both convenient and delightful. [She also recounts when her dad fucked her at nineteen!] Like the name of Madame DeVille's moniker, Cruella, some names fit the personality they are bestowed upon. Disney came up with that evil woman's apropos handle. My mother's folks named their only child, a daughter, Candy. This was shortly before the infamous 1968 movie was out. Though there were aspects of mom that paralleled the...

3 years ago
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Candy

Here I was, on a Super Constellation. Heading to NAS Atsugi, Japan. Me, a South Georgia farm boy that had never been away from home. I had completed Storekeeper’s School in San Diego, and my first duty station was an AF (refrigerator ship) out of San Francisco. My first duty was Mess Cooking. Army recruits would know this as KP, but the Navy was different. This was a full three-month duty, not completed on a daily basis. During this time, Mess Cooking, I had to see the integration of the...

3 years ago
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Candy Dishes and Chocolate

I suppose it really started two years ago when I was working for a small community newspaper in Colorado. It was the holiday season and, as in a lot of places, when the holiday season arrived the offices take on a gay, festive air. Banners and posters appear, Christmas cards get pinned up on cork memo boards and desks suddenly sprout scented candles and candy dishes. It was a candy dish that did it, a candy dish and Dove dark chocolate individually wrapped squares. +++++ I love the ladies....

2 years ago
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Candy Dishes and Chocolate

I suppose it really started two years ago when I was working for a small community newspaper in Colorado. It was the holiday season and, as in a lot of places, when the holiday season arrived the offices take on a gay, festive air. Banners and posters appear, Christmas cards get pinned up on cork memo boards and desks suddenly sprout scented candles and candy dishes. It was a candy dish that did it; a candy dish and Dove dark chocolate individually wrapped squares. I love the ladies. Can't...

1 year ago
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Candys big night

I got my wife Candy to start reading sex stories. She was getting so hot and sloppy wet reading how women were getting fucked. I got my wife Candy to start reading sex stories. She would get so hot and sloppy wet from reading. Candy didn’t know that I had ordered some toys from an adult toy site. I planned a hot night of fucking for the weekend. My package of toys arrived on Friday. I waited until Saturday night to take our sex to a new level. Candy spent the afternoon reading stories and...

Married
3 years ago
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Candys break up ll

Beth's hands shook as she moved her hands upwards. Reaching the straps of Candys bra. As she unhooked it Candy raised her head and opened her mouth to say something. She was silenced by Beth's tongue pushing in. Her heart pounded as she slid the straps off her shoulders. Her head still swimming from the alcohol Candy stopped fighting Beth, and sucked on her tongue. Dragging her nails lightly down, Beth ground her pelvis against her friend.Candys eye widened as she felt Beth's thumbs slip under...

4 years ago
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CANDY FOR BREAKFAST

CANDY FOR BREAKFASTI have quite a few favorite hobbies or habits, depending on who you ask. Next to sex, traveling is my favorite hobby. I live for vacations, holidays, weekends, and any other opportunity to get away. There’s just so much to see and experience, that I can’t resist the temptation to pick up and go.Quite by accident, I ended up taking a trip to Virginia four years ago. My boss’ niece needed help moving, and since I was the most trusted employee Mike Kelly had, he elected me to...

1 year ago
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Candy

I had this really good friend named Dave who also had a friend named Rusty. Well, Rusty had this really knockout girlfriend named Candy. Dave is a real bullshitter and I didn't believe half of the wild stories he told, so I just ignored his comments about how wild Candy got when she got drunk. He told me how Rusty was the type of guy that only wanted it about once or twice a week and Candy wanted it once or twice an hour. Since she was a "good little girl" she couldn't really cheat on Rusty,...

Erotic
3 years ago
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Candy for Candy

I’m way too old to be doing this, Candy thought as she finished putting on her costume. The thought sent a thrill of naughty excitement through her sexy young body. Candy was a high school senior, 18 years old, with long black hair, full red lips and a body that wouldn’t quit. She was also probably the oldest person that would be out trick or treating tonight, not that she was worried about getting her fair share of candy. In this costume, she could have all the candy if she wanted it. White...

3 years ago
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Candy the Cock Toy

I guess the goth club was a BAD idea. I had never been to one, and lets face it goth girls are fucking hot. And to top it all off I an not goth. I fit in their like the sun in the middle of the night. But I went anyway,looking fora hot goth chick to hook up with. And I found one. Her name was Raven, and she was divine beauty. Long legs, waspish skinny waist. No tatoos, I hate tatoos. Dark black hair, she stood in thigh high black high heeledboots, a super tight corset which pushed her...

3 years ago
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Candy From Strangers 4 Lost Little Girl

Introduction: the candies are out in public Red, white and blue. The colours of the American dream had taken on a whole new meaning in a small corner of the sleepy seaside town of Heavens Cove. Once designed to be breakthroughs in virility, birth control and body toners they had become a chemical cocktail of debauchery. The first victim of this madness was Franny Chesterson. Loving wife and mother one day and devoted sexual servant the next to her two stepsons, James and Marshall. The twin...

2 years ago
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Candy From Strangers 4 Lost Little Girl

The first “ victim” of this madness was Franny Chesterson. Loving wife and mother one day and devoted sexual servant the next to her two stepsons; James and Marshall. The twin boys themselves enhanced by those drug to increased physiques, stamina, penile size and recovery. Their father Ted, a victim of another combination of the drugs into submission and lethargy; a cuckold in his own home. The boys had caught onto the slippage of the drugs just in time, and planned that they would go no...

3 years ago
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Candys Halloween Costume

Halloween Costume Party. It was a week before Halloween and I was being dragged to yet another excursion on the Army base with my wife. I always hated these things. Number 1, I wasn't in the army, I was in the Air force. Number 2, most of the people at these parties were people my wife knew from work, and NOT people I knew very well. And number three, well, I don't get drunk. So sitting around casually with a bunch of people while they all get sloshed, is not my idea of fun. Regardless, I was...

3 years ago
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Candy Loses Her Virginity

An early finish from lectures was an unexpected and welcomed bonus. Don't get me wrong; I enjoy my course and the lecturer, Liz, as she insists we call her, is a dream. But an early off is always nice, especially on a cool autumn day.I walked briskly home through the park, letting my feet drag through the golden leaves, hearing them crunch under my boots.My eyes were never far from my boots, still glossy and black, form-fitting to the knees with a nice four-inch heel. They were my joy. Black...

Incest
1 year ago
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Candy

My name's Candy, I'm, sixteen years old and I've just divorced my parents to prevent either one of them getting their hands on any more of my money.Let me explain, from the age of eight, I'd won a whole series of beauty competitions and therefore a whole lot of money, things were fine at the start, but when I reached my teenage years, I began to ask questions about where all the prize money was going. I never got any satisfactory answers, and my parents began fighting with each other over it,...

Money
4 years ago
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Candy

Here I was, on a Super Constellation. Heading to NAS Atsugi, Japan. Me, a South Georgia farm boy that had never been away from home. I had completed Storekeeper's School in San Diego, and my first duty station was an AF (refrigerator ship) out of San Francisco. My first duty was Mess Cooking. Army recruits would know this as KP, but the Navy was different. This was a full three-month duty, not completed on a daily basis. During this time, Mess Cooking, I had to see the integration of the...

3 years ago
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Candy From Strangers Prologue

Located in a quiet corner of New England is the small sea side town of Heaven’s Cove, population 5000. It’s a sleepy town, with a handful of traffic lights. A single cinema, a small police station, a small fire department, small businesses and slow pace of life. It blossoms in the springs and the “ outoftowners” boom the population in the summer. But for the most part, nothing exciting happens here Historically , HeavensCove is only known for rum runners in the 20’s and as a location that...

4 years ago
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Candy Hearts

"Want a kiss?" I turned from my reverie to face the owner of the sultry voice murmuring into my ear. She was leaning in close to me, draping herself over the back of the couch where I sat. Her luscious red lips were parted just enough to let me see the tip of her tongue peeking out between her teeth, and her green eyes danced as they met mine, invitingly. She held up a teardrop-shaped chocolate wrapped in red tinfoil. "Tease," I said as I accepted the candy. "Hah," Kerry replied,...

4 years ago
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Candy Pikachu

“I have to get as many pictures as I can to show my friends,” he mother explained. “Oh, I wish it wasn’t my turn to host the Halloween party this year. I would have taken you trick or treating myself and just come late.” “You and Dad are far too obsessed with Pokémon,” Lily scolded her mother. She did not hate Pokémon by any means but her parents were absolutely obsessed with it and that made her enjoy it less. Besides, Pikachu was not even close to her favorite Pokémon. It was, in fact, her...

3 years ago
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Candy From Strangers 1 Yardwork

Doctor Higgins sat at his desk in his laboratory in his basement, staring in abject anger and disgust at the papers laid out before him. “ 20 years,..20 years of my life because of food colouring, gelatin and a dumbass that couldn’t keep his mouth shut!” He almost got to his feed but his wife pushed him back into his seat. She knelt under his desk slobbering all over his truly massive cock, slurping and worshipping at his meat . This mildly pacified the good DR. Higgins who...

3 years ago
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Candy From Strangers 1 Yardwork

Introduction: The Chesterson twins get their first taste Heavens Cove, one late October night late 1990s Doctor Higgins sat at his desk in his laboratory in his basement, staring in abject anger and disgust at the papers laid out before him. 20 years,..20 years of my life because of food colouring, gelatin and a dumbass that couldnt keep his mouth shut! He almost got to his feed but his wife pushed him back into his seat. She knelt under his desk slobbering all over his truly massive cock,...

4 years ago
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Candy

My name's Candy, I'm, sixteen years old and I've just divorced my parents to prevent either one of them getting their hands on my money. Let me explain, from the age of eight, I won a whole series of beauty competitions and therefore a whole lot of money, things were fine at the start but when I reached my teenage years, I began to ask questions about where all the prize money was going to, I never got any satisfactory answers and my parents began fighting with each other over it so I began...

4 years ago
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Candy Naked in SchoolChapter 2

Tuesday: At 2:00 AM Candy woke up screaming. She must have been making a lot of noise before she actually awoke, because both her father and mother were at either side of her. In her sleep she had relived her rape but this time instead of the nine teachers it was all the boys from the football team, the basketball team, the track team, and the baseball team. About 200 boys in all and instead of only fucking in one hole or another all 200 fucked her in mouth, pussy, and ass. Both her mother...

4 years ago
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Candy From Strangers 2 The View

They quickly picked up the basics of pussy eating and learned how to ease into anal on a woman. They learned the fine balancing act that was DP and learned how to properly throat fuck the sexy elder woman. Mrs Higgins loved every moment, having two hard cocks at her disposal She also loved knowing that the pills were making the boys cocks bigger everyday, she loved the energy of youth and how combined with the pills recuperative powers they can fuck and cum multiple times for hours on...

1 year ago
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Candy From Strangers 2 The View

Introduction: Franny witnesses a scene For the rest of the coming week the twin Chesterson boys, Marshall and James took their regiment of red, white and blue pills everyday. After school they would head over to Mrs Higgins place next door and help her with yard work. That work solely involved having the 63year old with the H cup boobs teaching them the fine arts of pleasing a woman. They quickly picked up the basics of pussy eating and learned how to ease into anal on a woman. They learned...

1 year ago
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Candys First Fuck

Candy’s First FuckI had become a regular visitor to Caroline, the TV escort who had introduced me to dressing.The sense of fulfilment I got when I was dressed and wearing far exceeded what I had felt in my unsatisfactory experiences with genetic females. In those encounters and relationships I was only too aware that I was only going through the motions of what was expected of a “normal” man. It was when I was “en femme” that I achieved the sensual heights that I craved. I had no intentions to...

3 years ago
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Candy Pikachu pt 2

While continuing was a little uncomfortable, she was not going to stop. She had been looking forward to trick or treating all year, ever since she heard from her Girl Scout leader that he gave out full sized candy bars to the first hundred kids that visited his house. She had made sure Max picked this street for that very reason. Upon reaching Mr. Richard’s house though, she was dismayed to see that his front porch light was off. He had probably run out of candy by now. Lily cursed her father...

3 years ago
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Candy From Strangers 5 Routine Followup

Introduction: The Sherrif and the Deputy visit the Chestersons Life is idyllic in the sleepy seaside town of Heavens Cove. The people are exceedingly friendly and helpful. One can get a friendly hello where ever you go. Just be careful if you bring your wife or girlfriend to this sleepy little town, she might never be the same after. Life continued on as normally as it did for most of the residents here. A handful of them though, their lives were changing in incredible ways and now their...

3 years ago
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Candy From Strangers 5 Routine Followup

Life continued on as normally as it did for most of the residents here. A handful of them though, their lives were changing in incredible ways and now their changes were on the brink of spreading through the city like a plague of debauchery. Take Sheriff Lewis “ Lou” Brown and his newest Deputy Erin Sullivan. Five days ago they discovered and learned the true nature of the “ jellybeans” that had found their ways inadvertently into their hands. The results on them were intoxicating and...

4 years ago
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Candy Stroker part 1

Candy Stroker When I was 17, several things happened to me. I got my license, I got my first real boyfriend, my boobs went through a big growth spurt—and I got a job as a candy striper. A few weeks before my 17th birthday, I’d gone shopping and gotten new bras. I remember it was hard to decide whether to get a 34A like I’d been doing for a while or to go to a 34B. I got the B on the advice of the salesgirl, who said I’d probably get bigger, but that there was no way a girl my age would get...

3 years ago
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Candy For Valentines Day

We needed to get away so badly! We were so worn down by life's battles. Both of us were looking forward to reconnecting. As we prepared for our romantic getaway the sexual anticipation began to build. We were like teen agers planning to sneak away for a forbidden lovers romp.  We arrived late on the day before Valentine's Day. As we were checking in I decided to tease Hubby with a little impromptu role play. As he approached the counter I assumed the air of an escort, touching him sensuously so...

Lesbian
4 years ago
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Candy for Aaron Part 2

Part Two: The Party After a shower the next morning, I tried to make it up to Bryan. I told him that I had sat on Aaron's lap and that I had let him go so far as to feel my tits and ass—through my clothes, of course, not bare. It was enough. Bryan got very aroused and fucked me as well as he could with his equipment, I guess. It was hard not to fantasize about Aaron and Troy plundering my pussy, but Bryan was happy, and though I was a tiny bit hung over, the memory of last night made me happy,...

Wife Lovers
4 years ago
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Candy Stroker part 1

Candy Stroker When I was 17, several things happened to me. I got my license, I got my first real boyfriend, my boobs went through a big growth spurt—and I got a job as a candy striper. A few weeks before my 17th birthday, I’d gone shopping and gotten new bras. I remember it was hard to decide whether to get a 34A like I’d been doing for a while or to go to a 34B. I got the B on the advice of the salesgirl, who said I’d probably get bigger, but that there was no way a girl my age would get...

First Time
4 years ago
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Candy Striper

Special thanks to Phil Gorman 2014 for his expertise in re-editing and proofing. I have always enjoyed helping people and being a candy striper at the hospital gives me an opportunity to do just that. It all started nearly two years ago when mom and I visited one of my aunts who had an operation. I saw a number of young candy stripers assisting a group of young patients. Mom told me that, at fourteen, I was too young to volunteer. Being persistent, I manage to get an application and a booklet...

2 years ago
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Candy Naked in SchoolChapter 4

Thursday: Thursday morning Candy awoke to the smells of bacon and eggs cooking. Her mouth watered in anticipation of breakfast. Normally they only had bacon and eggs on weekends. During the week it was usually just a bowl of cereal. She came into the kitchen and saw her mother cooking. Her mother looked up as she came in. She said, “I thought I would make a special breakfast today.” Candy replied, “That smells so good. Thank you.” When she got to school the principal saw her come in. She...

3 years ago
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Candy Stroker 8 My Date

Candy Stroker 8: My Date I had an afternoon shift at work that Saturday. There was no way I could perform any special services, what with visiting families all over the place. Weekends, there were usually some on-call staff. One on my wing that day was a young male traveling nurse. I’d heard of that, so I asked him about it. “It’s a great way to see the country and earn money,” he said. “Like, last winter I worked a hospital in Boulder, Colorado, and went skiiing a lot when I wasn’t on duty....

1 year ago
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Candy Hearts

Candy Hearts It all started with a kiss. There were the four of us together that day, as was often the case. There was my sister Anne, her best friend Jill, my best friend John, and me - Mike Marshal, a sixteen year old kid who was the runt of the litter. We were in Jill's parent's basement, like always, as it had a ping- pong/pool table we could play with, as well as a tv set and a couch so we could watch programs if we wanted to. Jill's folks much like mine - a pair of...

3 years ago
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Candy Stroker 8 My Date

Candy Stroker 8: My Date I had an afternoon shift at work that Saturday. There was no way I could perform any special services, what with visiting families all over the place. Weekends, there were usually some on-call staff. One on my wing that day was a young male traveling nurse. I’d heard of that, so I asked him about it. “It’s a great way to see the country and earn money,” he said. “Like, last winter I worked a hospital in Boulder, Colorado, and went skiiing a lot when I wasn’t on duty....

Straight Sex
4 years ago
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Candy Striper

New Candy Striper By Janet L. Stickney [email protected] The reason is obscure, the guilt very real, the urge undeniable. I had no way to stop myself from getting dressed up in mothers clothes once that urge hit me. Unstoppable, like a freight train, it compelled me to do it, but with each encounter I had with those clothes, I just had to go a bit further. First it was just a dress. Then it was a bra. Panties followed that, and now, well, I'm using makeup now. Every time I...

3 years ago
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Candy Land

- Hard Candy -A blue raspberry sucker crunched between my teeth as I descended the deserted parking garage. The click of my heels echoed through each level as I minced my way to the busy street below. A cool summer breeze blew up my mini skirt tickling my ass. The pink thong panties Master picked barely contained my swollen balls and the pink cock cage that imprisoned my clitty.I tried to appear confident and natural but I was terrified someone might clock me for what I am. My makeup was...

Crossdressing
3 years ago
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Candy Canes and Peppermint Lattes

I have always loved the Christmas season. From the smell of gingerbread, the concerts, the lights, the decorations, and the hot chocolate, to the music and the joyful nature of everyone that passes you on the streets. I love the snow, and the fresh crisp smell of the outside weather, even though, like most people, I hated driving in wintery conditions. This Christmas season was like most other ones, and it started out like most others do with the concert that kicks off the Christmas Season,...

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