Pantyboy Honeymoon free porn video

Pantyboy Honeymoon By Gingerfred Man Chapter One -- The Wedding Day "You have to stop crying, Stacey," Daddy said. "You want to look pretty for Mr. Biggenstiff, don't you? The man's so excited about marrying you, he's practically jumping out of his skin." "But, Daddy," Stacey bawled. "I don't want to marry Mr. Biggenstiff! Or any man. I'm too young. I won't even be 18 until tomorrow. And I'm a boy!" Well. Stacey Wigglebottom was right on both counts. But Daddy wasn't listening to his pretty son's objections. "Now let's not be silly, Sweetie. You know we talked about this. And you know that the family needs you to marry him. And you love your family, don't you? Stacey did love his family. He knew that Mr. Biggenstiff would be helping his family. And, ever since Mom and Daddy lost their jobs six months earlier, the family needed help. But he asked Daddy a very good question: "Why can't Susan or Madison or Amy marry Mr. Biggenstiff?" A reasonable question that deserved a reasonable answer. Susan Wigglebottom, aged 19, and her sisters Madison, 17, and Amy, 15, were every heterosexual man's wet dream. Tall and thin, but with mammoth boobs. Wide hips and plump asses. Beautiful, heart-stopping faces. They would have been the perfect brides for Mr. Biggenstiff. Except, "Mr. Biggenstiff doesn't like females 'that way,' Stacey," Daddy said. Which only made Stacey cry all the harder. "So he's gay!! And he thinks I'm gay. Which I'm not. He's a perv. A rich perv and you're all bowing down to him because you need the money." Well. Daddy couldn't argue about that. It was all true. It was a bit unfortunate that Stacey would have to "take one for the team." But that was life. For Stacey anyway. For the Wigglebottoms, it was new cars all around, even for Amy who wasn't old enough to drive. A big, new, paid-off home with taxes paid for 30 years. And a beach home with the same terms. Plus a generous, guaranteed income for the family for 30 years. Surely, Daddy reasoned, Stacey loved his family enough that he wouldn't expect them to turn that down. OK, so the boy would be going to bed every night with a 41-year-old man who was intent on emptying two sets of testicles until they were bone dry. Anal sex? No problem. Stacey would get used to it. Maybe even come to love it. He would probably even come to love Mr. Biggenstiff someday too. Goodness knows, Mom, Daddy, Susan, Madison and Amy loved Mr. Biggenstiff. It wasn't even one of those "'til death do us part" situations either. A standard pantyboy marriage contract is for three years. Either party could back out after then. And Stacey would only be 21. Plenty young to go back to what he wanted to do. Whatever that was. It was a great deal all around. Though Stacey didn't seem to see it. Stacey had been a real pain in the neck about it all. He even called child protective services and the police to try and stop the wedding. It was a good thing that Mr. Biggenstiff had a lot of friends and a lot of money to give those friends. A really sad thing about all this for Stacey was, he hadn't even met Mr. Biggenstiff yet! If he had met the man face-to-face, Stacey thought that he could reason with him. Pass off Susan or Madison or Amy on the man. In 15 minutes, the boy would be walking down the aisle at the Las Vegas Wedding Chapel. Attended by his three bridesmaid sisters. Given away by Daddy and Mom. Stacey looked at himself in the full-length mirror. And sniffled. He wanted to raise a good, wailing sob, but every time he looked in the mirror, he felt a little better. He was beautiful. Prettier even than his sisters. Even if they weren't wearing those ugly bridesmaids outfits that he had seen them in all morning. Stacey didn't even know that they made wedding gowns for boys. But this was Vegas. And his gown was a stunner. Mom had insisted on taking him to three bridal shops to find his gown. Which was gargantuanly humiliating. Though when it was just Mom and the saleslady, Stacey did like what he saw when he looked into the shop's mirrors. He learned that the four basic types of gowns are ball gown, empire, princess (also known as A-Line) and sheath. A pantyboy, which was what the saleslady kept calling Stacey, is best served by a ball gown or a sheath, since the others involve boobs. The ball gown is the most traditional and is typified by a full bodice and a waistline that leads to a very full skirt. The slim sheath silhouette closely follows the line of the body. All the ball gowns Stacey tried on made him look like a beautiful ballerina. Which was NOT what he wanted. Though his penis thought otherwise. Poor Stacey's pricklet was fatally erect every time he saw himself in a wedding gown. The sheaths looked good on Stacey as well, but weren't dramatic enough for his...oh, he meant, his Mom's...taste. And his bony collarbone looked bad in the sheath's portrait, off-the-shoulder, or halter necklines. So a ball gown it was. And Stacey endured three fittings until all was right. Or as right as it could be under the circumstances. Looking at himself aroused Stacey every time. Except for that time an hour earlier when Mom shushed everyone from the room and gave Stacey "the talk." "You must submit to your husband, Honey. In all things. He is your Lord and Master." "But, Mom. Dad's not your Lord and Master. You boss him around all the time." "That's different, Stacey. I'm talking about in the bedroom. Now if Mr. Biggenstiff wants to put his penis into your mouth, you let him. You must kiss, lick and suck it until he shoots his man's cream. Either into your mouth or all over your pretty face. Do you understand?" What Stacey understood was that he wanted to barf. But Mom showed no mercy. "And if he wants to put his penis inside you, 'back there,' you must let him. You must show him how much you want him to do that loving thing for you. Do you understand?" Was Mom saying that Mr. Biggenstiff was going to put his big, stiff cock into Stacey's tiny asshole? That did it. The poor lad ran into the bathroom and barfed into the toilet. Not on his dress, which he hadn't put on yet. Or his white, two-inch-heeled, stiletto sandals that he'd been learning to walk in for a month. Mom waited patiently until Stacey staggered out of the bathroom and said, "OK, then. A bride always has pre-wedding jitters. Let's hope that's the last of yours." Stacey settled down a bit after that. He certainly hadn't accepted his disgusting fate. But he was sure that a last minute appeal to the governor (Daddy) for clemency would be denied. He was right. So he took one last look at his beautiful self in the mirror, took Daddy's arm with his right hand and Mom's with his left. The three entered the chapel. Which was filled with friends, family and curiosity seekers. Stacey's three sisters were with him as the bridesmaids. The three groomsmen, each of whom was hoping to get lucky with a Wigglebottom bridesmaid, stood tall to the left of Mr. Biggenstiff. Mr. Biggenstiff! At last. Stacey shyly lifted his eyes to see the man who wanted to be his husband so badly that he had put millions into Wigglebottom purses and pockets. The man who was going to be VERY disappointed in a few minutes when Stacey would say "I don't" rather than "I do." Because there was NO WAY he would be marrying that creepy pervert. Though Mr. Biggenstiff didn't look like a creepy pervert. He looked tall, fit and handsome. Very handsome. And prosperous. Very prosperous. But above all, he looked happy! Which disgusted Stacey even more. The creepy pervert was happy because he thought he was going to marry an unwilling boy, then take him home and FORCE the boy to have homo sex with him! Well, Stacey had one last arrow in his quiver and it was almost time for it. Stacey did experience a tingle or two as he walked down the aisle and several men gasped at his beauty. More pervs! But it was still sort of affirming. Mom, Daddy and Stacey arrived at the altar. "Who gives this lovely pantyboy to be married?" the creepy perv of a creepy minister asked. "His mother and I," Daddy said. Then he hugged Stacey, stepped back, watched as Mom hugged Stacey, and sat with Mom to watch the so-called wedding that wasn't about to happen. "Do you take this pantyboy to be your lawful wife...in sickness or in health...for richer or for poorer? Will you love him and give him all the spermy sex that a boy his age needs -- even up that beautiful ass of his -- several times a day -- for at least three years from this date?" Stacey had never heard that at a wedding before. He winced when Mr. Biggenstiff said "I do," because here was his chance. It would all be over in a few seconds. The minister turned to Stacey and said, "I have here a signed consent form from the parents of Stacey Wigglebottom, minor child of 17 years and 364 days, that will suffice as consent acceptance of the marriage. I now pronounce you man and pantyboy! You may kiss the bride." WHAT!?!?!?!?!?! HUH!?!?!?!!?!?! BUT!?!?!?!?!?!? Mr. Biggenstiff lifted Stacey's veil and kissed him!!! Kissed Stacey!! On the lips!! And the wedding guests were all applauding and cheering. Stacey wanted to scream about how unfair it all was. But he found himself in a receiving line at the back of the chapel, accepting well- wishes. Then at a reception where he and Mr. Biggenstiff danced, then Stacey danced with Daddy to "Daddy's Little Girl." They did the chicken dance and the hokey pokey and everyone was coming up to Stacey telling him he was the prettiest bride in history. Was everyone crazy? Suddenly it was midnight and he and Mr. Biggenstiff were leaving the reception and everyone was saying goodbye. The newlyweds got into a limo that took them to the town's ritziest hotel, where they were shown to the honeymoon suite. Mr. Biggenstiff carried Stacey, who was still wearing his gown, across the threshold, into the room. And suddenly... Stacey was alone with Mr. Biggenstiff. Who may have been a bit randy. Terrified was too mild a word for what Stacey felt. Chapter Two -- The Wedding Night Poor Stacey. Alone with a crazy person. A lovestruck, homo perv, who, rather than being ostracized and incarcerated, was revered and envied. At least 20 guys at the reception had leered at Stacey, then called Mr. Biggenstiff a lucky stiff. Mr. Biggenstiff was indeed lucky. And indeed stiff. But he knew that, while ripping Stacey's gown off and TAKING what was due to him as the pantyboy's husband was an appealing option, if he wanted Stacey to adore him and give himself freely and openly, very openly, other tactics would apply. So, slowly wins the race. "Don't be afraid, my sweet Darling," Mr. Biggenstiff said to his boy bride. "I would never hurt you. I want our three years together to be the best of our lives. I can see you're tired and that gown must weigh a ton. Let me help you get it off so you can relax." Stacey whimpered in fear. Mr. Biggenstiff wanted to strip Stacey naked!! So he could do all that despicable stuff that Mom had told Stacey he should do with his new "husband." But he was going to have to take the stupid gown off eventually. And he had no idea how he would do it himself. With no better option apparent, Stacey turned his back to Mr. Biggenstiff to allow the man to unzip him. Stacey shivered as the man slowly unzipped the gown. Exposing his creamylicious back to his "husband" for the first time. Oh how Mr. Biggenstiff ached to kiss each bared pore! The boy was an innocent, gorgeous angel. Who would only be defiled through love and patience. Oh, look! Stacey was wearing a bra! What a nice touch. Unnecessary, but sexy as a stack of Panty Boy Magazines to Mr. Biggenstiff. Stacey had sobbed when his mother had INSISTED on the bra that morning. But as in all other things, Stacey had surrendered. Well, no more surrender, Stacey vowed. Stacey was drawing the line. When that beastly Mr. Biggenstiff tried to RAPE Stacey, the boy would kick him right in his "package" and run out the door. But Mr. Biggenstiff wasn't RAPING Stacey yet. All he was doing was helping Stacey step out of a wedding gown that had gotten exponentially heavier all day long. It felt good to step out of it. Though Stacey didn't like standing in front of Mr. Biggenstiff wearing only his ridiculous bra; white, seamed, fully-fashioned, reinforced-heel- and-toe stockings; a ruffled, white garter belt; and two-inch-stiletto, white heels that were killing his feet. It was one more humiliation on top of all the others. Stacey was watching for Mr. Biggenstiff to make his RAPE move. But all he did was get Stacey seated so he could lovingly remove his high heels. Well. That wasn't totally unpleasant. Getting out of those heels was a great relief. The boy's feet hurt! Oh my. The man was rubbing the boy's feet. "You poor sweetheart," the sick, perverted sicko perv who was a pretty good foot-rubber said. "I can only imagine how difficult it's been for you to spend a day in those heels. Maybe I can make your feet feel a little better." Actually, Mr. Biggenstiff turned out to be a sick, perverted sicko perv who was a world-class foot-rubber! Stacey was enjoying something for the first time that day. Sensing that, Mr. Biggenstiff gave the boy a delicious, 20-minute foot massage. Relaxing the boy considerably. So he could FUCK him right then and there!!! No. Be patient. Mr. Biggenstiff was patient. "I'm glad you're feeling better, honey. Let me draw you a nice hot bath, so you can relax before bed. Unless you want me to help you undress some more." Stacey was quick to tell Mr. Biggenstiff that he did NOT need any further help undressing. Stacey had vowed never to be naked around Mr. Biggenstiff. Only 1,095 days to go in the "marriage." Surely Stacey could avoid Mr. Biggenstiff that long. If Stacey was naked, Mr. Biggenstiff would get a lot of perv ideas and do pervy things to Stacey. But even more importantly, when Mr. Biggenstiff was giving Stacey that foot rub, Stacey's penis, without consulting Stacey, had gotten ridiculously stiff. And his peanuts were aching the way they did that time he had found Daddy's sex magazine and looked at all the pictures of big-breasted ladies. Poor Stacey didn't know what else to do when he was reading that book. All he did was keep turning the page and feel the burn in his testicles. When Mr. Biggenstiff was done drawing the bath, Stacey would just go in there, take off his bra, stockings, and garter belt and get into the tub for a nice, hot bath. After which, he would put on his pajamas and go to sleep. Since he was way tired! Mr. Biggenstiff's plans differed slightly. "Your bath is ready, Stacey," the man called. Beginning to trust Mr. Biggenstiff just a smidgeon, Stacey entered the cathedral-sized bathroom. Mr. Biggenstiff had stripped to his boxers and tee shirt! And Stacey could see the man's cock tenting the boxers quite nastily. Stacey considered flight or fight, but the all-business Mr. Biggenstiff allowed for neither. "Well, you're certainly not going into the tub wearing those. Come over here and let me help you. Don't worry. I would never hurt you." Oddly, Stacey believed the man when he said he would never hurt Stacey. But there were lots of unholy, non-hurting "liberties" the man could take. None of which Stacey was planning to allow. "You have to take a bath," Mr. Biggenstiff said. "And I know that this day has made you tense. I'm sure your Daddy has given you baths and you found them pleasant. I'm your husband now and I want to do this for you." There were probably a thousand reasons why what Mr. Biggenstiff was asking to do was wrong. But none sprang to Stacey's mind. He almost said, "But you'll see my stiffie, which I did NOT authorize my penis to produce," but decided against it. Before Stacey could form a protest, Mr. Biggenstiff was on his knees unhooking Stacey's garter straps from his stockings. The man motioned for Stacey to sit on the toilet seat. Stacey complied. Then Mr. Biggenstiff rolled each precious stocking down each luscious leg. Which made poor Stacey's Woodrow even more outrageous. As well as Mr. Biggenstiff's prize possession. At Mr. Biggenstiff's direction, Stacey stood and turned around as Mr. Biggenstiff unhooked the boy's bra. When Stacey did another 180 to face Mr. Biggenstiff, he was wearing only tented panties. And Mr. Biggenstiff got his first sight of the twin titties on which he would be nursing for three delightful years. Mr. Biggenstiff gulped. They were delightful. Big and puffy. More girlish than he could have ever hoped for. Those pretty nipples alone were worth what Mr. Biggenstiff had spent on the wedding and all the stuff that the boy's greedy family had insisted on. And the panties hadn't come off to reveal the penis, testicles and bum. Oh how Mr. Biggenstiff ached to see them. The boy was blushing furiously as Mr. Biggenstiff slowly removed the ridiculous panties Mom had made him wear for the wedding. Despite his vows to himself only moments earlier, Stacey would be "showing his junk" to the pervy man who gave nice footrubs. Well, at least the man seemed to appreciate Stacey's beauty. Stacey was actually moved by Mr. Biggenstiff's reaction when he had Stacey's panties down to mid-thigh. The man's eyes filled with tears. Pervy tears, of course. But appreciatively pervy tears. For the sweetest little set of boy's things Mr. Biggenstiff had ever seen. And he had seen several. Stacey's four delicious inches quivered with humiliation/excitement. The boy's foreskin was pulled back only partially over his deep-red, blood-engorged knob. His pink pole stood above a tiny bag of dangling spheres that had just begun to ache with unfulfilled need. Though Stacey had no idea what he needed at that moment. "You're beautiful all over, my sweet darling," Mr. Biggenstiff said. "A perfect angel." Oh! Stacey was a bit grossed out by being naked with a man who was probably going to RAPE him any minute. But who wouldn't want to hear the kinds of things Mr. Biggenstiff was saying? And the crazy rapist was acting awfully nice. So far. Stacey blushed at the praise. And didn't run away screaming when the man eased him into the tub of delightfully warm water. Stacey's tensions began to ease as Mr. Biggenstiff drizzled warm water over Stacey's head to wet his hair. The way Daddy used to do for him before he was seven and Stacey had to start taking his own baths. Did Stacey miss the baths that Daddy gave him? Kind of. He was a little jealous because sometimes, when Mom was off staying with her sister, Daddy would take showers with Stacey's sisters. And they were all old enough not to need Daddy's help. Mr. Biggenstiff's fingers felt good as the man shampooed Stacey's longish, dark-red hair. When every follicle had been scrubbed, Mr. Biggenstiff rinsed the shampoo out, then began to wash Stacey's back with a warm washcloth held by firm, manly hands. Oh. That felt very nice. Though frightened and apprehensive, Stacey was not immune to all that loving attention. Mr. Biggenstiff then directed his attention and his washcloth to Stacey's chest and [blush] nipples -- which he seemed to spend a great deal of time washing. Stacey quivered a bit at the friction on his nipples. An erogenous zone he didn't even know he had. Mr. Biggenstiff rubbed each puffy nipple a bit more frictionally than he had rubbed some other of Stacey's pretty parts. Which didn't do much about reducing the boy's enraged stiffie. The young beauty's penis hadn't relaxed at all. It seemed to throb even more insistently when the man asked him to lean back in the tub and present each sweet foot for a tender scrubbing. Oh the loving care the man lavished on each tiny toe! Oh the incessant ache in Stacey's ballsack as the arousal without fulfillment exacerbated. Beginning to realize that the man's attentions had thus far been quite pleasant and that he was unlikely to be RAPED in the next five minutes or so, Stacey compliantly stood when his so-called "husband" asked to do so. "I have to clean your bum now, sweetie. Turn around." Stacey panicked at that. Presenting his bum to the man would give the potential RAPIST just what he wanted, wouldn't it? But what could Stacey do? His family turned him over to the man. Abandoning Stacey to his homosex-drenched fate. Though he had to admit that nothing unpleasant or even uncomfortable had happened yet. In fact, Stacey was glad to turn away from Mr. Biggenstiff, because the boy's preposterously stiff cock was an embarrassment. And was sending Mr. Biggenstiff entirely the wrong message about Stacey's feelings about Mr. Biggenstiff. Oh. That washcloth that Mr. Biggenstiff was rubbing all over Stacey's bumcheeks felt so good! The man was a wizard with a washcloth. Wait. What was the man doing? HE WAS WASHING BETWEEN STACEY'S CHEEKS!! In the boy's most intimate areas! That was wrong!! Stacey was going to protest. Right after he stopped moaning softly at how good it felt. When Stacey realized that he was moaning, he blushed crimsonly. Though he didn't stop his appreciative grunts every time Mr. Biggenstiff gave his anus a rub in passing. Then things went up a notch. "Boys need to clean themselves all over," Mr. Biggenstiff whispered throatily. Then he did a totally inappropriate, invasive, violationary thing. The soapy washcloth and two of the man's fingers entered Stacey's anus. Four things happened. Stacey formed the intent in his brain to scream at the violator and his rude violation. Mr. Biggenstiff's fingers found Stacey's prostate and gave it two and a half rubs. Stacey screamed, but not in protest. Spunk flew like a late-for-work Clark Kent out of the boy's penis. In thick, creamy ropes. As the beautiful boy ejaculated in helpless awe. What was the license number of that intergalactic, hyperdrive, starship that just ran Stacey over? Stacey's first orgasm was one for the intergalactic record books. So that was what all that fuss was about, Stacey thought. People did sex things so that one of THOSE would happen. Not entirely. There were elements of love, lust, dominance and submission involved. But for guys, they pretty much did sex things so that one of THOSE would happen. A real eye-opener for Stacey. But not a bum-opener. He wasn't letting Mr. Biggenstiff stick his business into Stacey's bottom. Nor his mouth. Uh-uh! As the last drop of his virginal juices drooled from his deflated prick, Stacey chastised himself for the unguarded act of gayness that he inadvertently permitted himself to commit. It wasn't the true Stacey, he told himself. He was tired. It was a weak moment. And it had felt extraordinarily good. That goodness thing wouldn't sneak up on him again, that was for sure. No more unwanted pleasure for Stacey. For his part, Stacey's new husband was crediting himself with an early victory. On his wedding night, Mr. Biggenstiff would have surely preferred replacing the two fingers still occupying Stacey's beautiful asshole with his prick. But he had a sweet, innocent, reluctant bride. Who must be treated with caution and care. And, hey, his new bride appeared to have a hair-trigger prostate. Which meant that Stacey would be wanting, even needing, more stimulation "back there" soon enough. And Mr. Biggenstiff knew what kind of stimulation pantyboys liked best. This was his third marriage after all. One's wedding night when one is alone with one's naked bride is not the time to be "wistful." So let's just say that Mr. Biggenstiff flashed back momentarily to his first wedding night -- with the lovely Leslie Spreadcheeks. What a doll that brunet was! How old would he be now? 25? Yeah. Dating pantyboys himself by now, Mr. Biggenstiff imagined. Leslie wanted IT from Day One of their marriage. Heck. Before Day One. And every day for three years from the wedding to the marriage termination. Couldn't really call it a divorce since it was all planned from the beginning to end on their third anniversary. Leslie was cheating on Mr. Biggenstiff by the end of their marriage, of course. And not just at the pantyboy spunk parties they attended three or four nights each week. Mr. Biggenstiff never considered pantyboy spunk parties to be cheating. They were just...recreation. No, Leslie was dropping his panties for just about any man who smiled at him. Two months after their marriage ended, Leslie was married to a guy who was OK with a boywife who gave him all he could handle, then tried to give every other guy in town everything he could handle too. Leslie was a phenomenal piece of ass though. [Sigh} Oops. Involuntary wistfulness again. Mr. Biggenstiff's second boywife, Daniel, was as innocent as Stacey when they married. The boy was shy and uneasy about gay sex with a man more than twice his age -- if you can believe that. And his asshole was so tight at first that it was heavenly for Mr. Biggenstiff and hellish for Daniel. Mr. Biggenstiff almost felt like a pedophile every time they fucked that first year. Until the boy was good and loose back there. Almost. The boy hardly ever spunked the first year of their marriage. But the boy evolved into the sexiest, cock-hungriest lover Mr. Biggenstiff had ever had. Being with Daniel prepared Mr. Biggenstiff for Stacey. Who didn't seem the least bit wistful as he turned to face Mr. Biggenstiff so that his "front stuff" could be washed properly. Using his experience with the reluctant Daniel, Mr. Biggenstiff didn't mention the thick glob of cum that was running down the tile behind the trembling Stacey. All he said was, "I think you needed that, Baby. Do your peanuts feel better now?" Stacey blushed flammably, but nodded his head in shy agreement. His balls did feel better. He felt better all over, except for the shame and guilt stuff. Was Mr. Biggenstiff going to touch his peanuts when he washed him? Stacey didn't want that. Mostly. He didn't need it either, since he wasn't even stiff. Prolonged stiffness was the culprit, Stacey reasoned accurately. Mr. Biggenstiff put more warm water on the washcloth and soaped it up well. He gave his boywife's tummy a nice cleaning, along with a belly button tickle. Then he went to work on the thighs. Outside. Then [gasp] inside. Oh no! Stacey's stiffie was coming back! Disaster. Mr. Biggenstiff would reason that Stacey was gay because he got stiff when the man touched him in touchy places. Then he would MAKE Stacey accept his disgusting cock in Stacey's little mouth. Followed by the man sticking that big monster into Stacey's bumhole!! But that didn't happen. Mr. Biggenstiff paid a lot of attention to Stacey's balls as he wielded that washcloth. Poor Stacey. The boy groaned involuntarily at the gay sensations a sweet ball rub was producing. And his penis was once again humiliatingly stiff. What was the man doing?!?! He was TOUCHING Stacey's penis with his left hand. Pulling back the skin all the way. Unnnhhh. "A boy needs to clean under his foreskin every day, Sweetheart," Mr. Biggenstiff said. "Dirt and stuff get under there and it's not good. Your foreskin is a bit slippery, but I'll get through this part of your bath." Mr. Biggenstiff was pretending to be having trouble getting a proper skinning grip on Stacey's foreskin and Stacey was pretending to believe him. The man was pulling the skin back three or four times, then washing the beautiful, pink knob with the aforementioned washcloth. Losing his grip on the foreskin and beginning anew. Twelve times. Until... "Oh, Mr. Biggenstiff!" Stacey cried out. As he heaved major cummies at his attentive husband. Who was merely involved in a hygiene exercise. Some of Stacey's boy's cream landed on Mr. Biggenstiff's chest. Some on his lap. But most ended up on his face. Which delighted Mr. Biggenstiff. And distressed Stacey. RAPE time for sure, Stacey reasoned. And he would be powerless to resist. The man was so strong and powerful and Stacey was just a small, helpless boy. The only consolation, of course, was that, since Stacey would be powerless to resist, he wouldn't be responsible for anything gay that happened. So Stacey gritted his teeth and awaited his ravishment. Which didn't happen. The man was sitting on the toilet, using a towel to wipe Stacey's sperm off his face and chest. Then, "Let me dry you off now, sweetie." What choice did Stacey have? He was wet. Mr. Biggenstiff controlled the towels. The boy stepped forward and submitted to a drying-off. Which proved to be, like the bath that preceded it, unnervingly pleasant. The man patted, rather than rubbed the boy dry. With just enough firmness and loving pressure to reawaken Stacey's treasonous cock yet again. When every water molecule had been soaked up by the big, fluffy towels, Mr. Biggenstiff set about powdering Stacey's body from his nipples to his knees. Which had the boy panting unwillingly yet again. Then... "Before I put on your nightshirt, darling, two last things." What was Mr. Biggenstiff doing? The man produced a bottle of some lotion or cream and was using one finger to rub it all over Stacey's enflamed cockknob. It felt so disgustingly good that tears were forming in Stacey's beautiful eyes. Oh, please make him stop, Stacey thought, or I'll do that... What? Mr. Biggenstiff stopped! Why did he stop? Stacey didn't want him to stop. "That was just so your peener doesn't get sore after all that rubbing, sweetie. Just a bit more and then we can go into the bedroom and I'll dress you for bed." Mr. Biggenstiff had Stacey turn around. The man restrained a gasp. What a marvelous ass the boy had. Pink and plump. Jutting backwards just a bit in unwitting invitation. Stacey hesitated a bit when Mr. Biggenstiff said, "Just hold your cheeks open for a moment or two, Honey. I need to do one more nice thing." Was that when he would be RAPED?!?!? Not yet. Stacey held his two precious mounds apart while Mr. Biggenstiff applied a cream to the opening of the boy's anus, entering it no more deeply than the length of a fingernail, but drawing an involuntary moan of lust from the young beauty. Mr. Biggenstiff offered no explanation for his actions that time. He just wanted to get a good look and feel of the asshole he would "own" for three years. Stacey felt a bit cheated. All that nice rubbing stopped too soon! But he and his restiffened cock followed Mr. Biggenstiff into the bedroom. Mr. Biggenstiff produced a pretty, white garment from his suitcase and said, "This is your nightshirt, honey. It's cool and comfortable. I know you'll like it." Stacey wasn't so sure. It was a lot like a girl's nightie. The kind that his sisters Susan, Madison and Amy wore when they sat on Daddy's lap before bedtime and kissed him goodnight. It wasn't very manly. Skimpy would describe it best. And diaphanous, though Stacey would have called it "see-through." Submissively, though, Stacey held his arms up and allowed his "husband" to dress him in it. Well, it was cool. Breezy almost. Though too short for Stacey's taste. His "boy's things" were only half-covered. But it was too late and he was too tired to argue. The bed looked really comfy. And big. Mr. Biggenstiff held the sheets back for Stacey, then tucked the boy in. Stacey was so tired that he didn't really protest when Mr. Biggenstiff kissed him good night. Right on the lips! [Ick!] But it wasn't an entirely awful kiss. "I'm going to take a shower now, Honey," Mr. Biggenstiff said. Which didn't really matter much to Stacey because he was drifting off. Wondering idly where the other bed was. The one where Mr. Biggenstiff would sleep. Stacey was warm and cozy. Mom was hugging him so nicely. Or maybe it was Daddy. Or Grandpa. Then he woke up. And saw that it was Mr. Biggenstiff hugging him! In the same bed as Stacey!! And [gasp] Mr. Biggenstiff was naked!!! [Though quite clean, having just showered.] Mr. Biggenstiff wasn't doing anything exceptionally gay. Just spooning and hugging. And keeping his hands to himself. Though the naked part was a bit disconcerting. As was the massive lead pipe that was spooned up against the boy's back. Was that his "man's thing?" Oh! It was so big. And hot. And hard. Stacey was a compassionate boy. He logically deduced that if Stacey's "things" ached when he was hard without relief, imagine the intense discomfort suffered by someone with Mr. Biggenstiff's massive meat! Stacey knew that he shouldn't be thinking about Mr. Biggenstiff's cock. But boys can be curious. And since it had already introduced itself to Stacey's back...and since he didn't want anyone, even a creepy perv like Mr. Biggenstiff to suffer... Stacey rolled onto his back and in a small voice asked, "Are you awake, Mr. Biggenstiff?" The man answered immediately. "I can't sleep. I keep thinking about how beautiful you are." Good answer. Stacey blushed. And his cock leapt upward yet again. "Do your peanuts hurt?" the sweet boy asked. "Oh, yes, dearest. But I don't want you doing anything you don't want to do." Which was a four-and-a-half-star lie. But a good one nevertheless. "I know it hurts. I can help you. The way you helped me." Not waiting for a retraction of the offer, Mr. Biggenstiff reached over to the nightstand and grabbed a bottle of Slickyboy Masturbation Cream. "Give me your right hand, Sweetie," the man asked. Stacey complied. And received a palmful of Slickyboy. "Just rub the head sweetly and I'll feel better soon," Mr. Biggenstiff advised sagely. Stacey was a bit hesitant. Or at least pretended to be. But eventually, his curiosity and sense of fair play triumphed. Mr. Biggenstiff groaned appreciatively when he felt Stacey's slick hand pull back his foreskin to expose the beet red knob. Stacey gasped at the size! Then he gasped again because Mr. Biggenstiff's hand, which was also greased with Slickyboy, found its way to Stacey's penis and testciles. Man and boy rubbed and teased and tickled each other privates. A kiss was all that was needed to complete the delightful activity. So Mr. Biggenstiff kissed Stacey. Stacey didn't resist. He was enjoying it all too much. The boy found himself sucking on Mr. Biggenstiff's tongue as he rubbed the man's cockhead and had his own rubbed equally well. A tableau of ecstasy soon was created. Mr. Biggenstiff spunked first (Stacey was on number three, after all) as Stacey watched the sperm gusher with naughty delight. And a vague sense of accomplishment. The boy asked himself, did Mr. Biggenstiff always make that much sperm or was Stacey truly that beautiful? Then the time for thinking passed. Stacey's gut was sending out distress signals. A spermstorm was about to capsize the pretty boy. And the swells were titanic. Stacey sucked harder on Mr. Biggenstiff's tongue as he felt every drop of moisture leave his body and jet onto Mr. Biggenstiff's hand and hairy chest. In truth, the fruits of the boy's third cum were mere dribbles. But they felt like the perfect wave to Stacey. Man and boy kissed through Stacey's orgasm and its afterglow, then fell asleep in each other's arms. Chapter Three -- Marriage: Day One The sun was everywhere when Stacey awoke. What time was it? Did he have to go to school? Where was Mom? She always woke him up. Realization. Yesterday everything in Stacey's life had been radically changed. He's been FORCED to marry a man twice his age. The man had [gasp] seen Stacey naked. Given Stacey a bath. Kissed Stacey! Pulled Stacey's peeny! And made the boy shoot gobs of that creamy stuff. But worst of all, Stacey had liked all those gay things the man did. A lot. Stacey had even pulled the man's penis and made the man shoot too, while he was sucking the man's tongue. They slept together, hugging. The man was naked! In the light of day, Stacey's behavior the previous day seemed appalling to him. It wasn't really an excuse to say that Stacey wasn't in his right mind. He was homesick. He was stressed. He would never do it again. Which he would tell that awful man as soon as he saw him. Where was he, anyway? Oh. Mr. Biggenstiff burst into the room. He wasn't naked at least -- wearing shorts and a tshirt. And a big smile. Probably feeling smug about hypnotizing Stacey last night and making him do all those gay things. The last gay things Stacey would ever do. "Hi, sweetie!" the big doofus said. "Did you sleep well?" And another thing, Stacey thought, why was he always so nice? Was he really "in love" with Stacey? Did he really think Stacey was beautiful? And sweet? "OK, I guess," Stacey replied. Mr. Biggenstiff recognized "post-wedding-night shame." He had been married twice before. Three times if he counted those eight hellish years with Mary Ann. Ugh. He knew how to deal with virginal reluctance too. Gently. "The bellman just set up breakfast. Why don't you go tinkle and join me. I'll bet you're hungry." Stacey was hungry. Very hungry. And he had to tinkle very badly. The man understood him. Which was even more maddening. Stacey got up and went into the bathroom. Oh, it felt so good to pee. Even though he kind of had to arc it a bit since he had morning wood. He had to hold his nightshirt, his only garment, up too. Something was dried and cakey on the shirt and on his tummy. His sperm. The man's sperm. Ick! More reasons to swear off gay activities. Stacey took time after his pee to wash off the dried stuff. With the same washcloth that Mr. Biggenstiff had used to give the boy the best hour of his life. He could even see the little poop stains from when the man had entered Stacey's anus with it. Ick! Right? He decided to just focus on breakfast. Mr. Biggenstiff was in the suite's sitting room, at the table. "Your mom says you like orange juice, pancakes and sausage patties, not links. Is that right?" It was. Why did the man have to be so nice? And attentive? Stacey was a bit self-conscious, being in only an ultra-short, see- through nightshirt. But the pancakes and sausage were beckoning. And they were very good. Mr. Biggenstiff didn't talk about any sex things at breakfast. He just asked about Stacey's school and his friends. "You'll be going back for your senior year at school in the fall. And seeing all your friends. If that's what you want," Mr. Biggenstiff told Stacey. He would? Maybe his life wasn't over. It would be a bit humiliating to go back to school with everyone knowing that Stacey had married a man over summer vacation. What a rip-snorting, first-day-of-school essay that would be. But Stacey would get over it. And so would his friends. How many days until school restarted? Stacey finished his breakfast and realized that he had no idea what he was supposed to do next. Mr. Biggenstiff knew. "We're going on our honeymoon today, Sweetie. Once we're cleaned up and dressed, we're going to the airport and flying to this great resort on the island of Spermatozoa. You like swimming, don't you, Honey?" It was true. Stacey loved swimming. But he was terrified of being in a public place with Mr. Biggenstiff. People looking at them and knowing that Mr. Biggenstiff thought he and Stacey were married -- a state that Stacey felt should be in dispute. But there was no way out, was there? Stacey's weak response was, "When is our flight?" "Whenever we get there. It's a private jet." That would have been very exciting to the normal Stacey -- the day-before-yesterday Stacey. It was all too terrifying for the poor boy. Mr. Biggenstiff moved things along. "Don't worry about the dishes. Why don't you go brush your teeth and shower while I get your clothes together for the trip?" Shower? Stacey wasn't getting a bath? Like last night? With that wonderful washcloth? Was Mr. Biggenstiff tired of Stacey already? Insensitive to the boy's needs? Didn't Mr. Biggenstiff see how much Stacey enjoyed last night's bath? And how the boy's pecker was vertical? It couldn't be a question of limited time -- private jet and all. Stacey cried a tear of rejection as he brushed his teeth and considered his naked body in the bathroom mirror. Still pretty good. Beautiful, even. What game was Mr. Biggenstiff playing? Stacey started the shower and got in. With a clean washcloth and bottles of shampoo and body wash. The shower was steamy and felt good. But it did nothing for the ache in his pretty peanuts. Then... The shower door opened. And a nude Mr. Biggenstiff joined Stacey. Stacey should have screamed at the unwelcome intrusion. But the truth was, he welcomed the intruder very nicely. With a soapy, naked hug of released anxiety. Stacey whimpered for a moment when Mr. Biggenstiff pushed Stacey gently back to separate them, but then saw why that was necessary. Mr. Biggenstiff was carrying a large bottle of Showerfun, a new Spermbutt Industries product that the erotic-product juggernaut claims is "babyoil for the shower." An oil that allows slippery, man-boy contact without washing off right away? Wow! Only Carlton Spermbutt's genius could have spawned such a miracle product. As Mr. Biggenstiff slathered Showerfun all over Stacey's front from his nipples to his knees, the man seemed to me in more of a hurry than Stacey had yet seen. Was Mr. Biggenstiff extra-horny for Stacey? Maybe Stacey hadn't lost "it." The man then turned Stacey around and Showerfunned the boy from his neck to the backs of his knees, with special attention to his plump, pink globes. Lastly, Mr. Biggenstiff rubbed his own front down from nipples to knees. And let the Showerfun begin! Mr. Biggenstiff lifted Stacey by his bumcheeks just high enough so that their mouths and stiff cocks were in contact. Moist contact! Stacey couldn't believe he was letting Mr. Biggenstiff do what he was doing to Stacey. Rubbing his huge cock against Stacey's needy woodie. But it had all felt so awesome last night. And in the morning, after an initial bout with light-of-day shame, the boy realized that he wanted "certain things." And Mr. Biggenstiff seemed to be the mother lode of "certain things." The man was so manly and masterful. And the way he made Stacey feel was unbelievable. Even if Stacey were able to be a big enough crybaby and whiner to keep Mr. Biggenstiff from doing gay things with Stacey, everyone Stacey knew would assume that he and Mr. Biggenstiff were doing gay things anyway. So what was the point of resisting? He would, however, resist one thing, no matter what. That huge iron pipe between Mr. Biggenstiff's legs was NEVER going into Stacey's tiny pucker. He was sure of that. Nor would Stacey ever lick, kiss or suck said iron pipe. That was icky! And Stacey was really sure of that too. Pretty sure. Mostly sure. Those two little restrictions left a broad range of fun activities on the table, Stacey reasoned correctly. Most notably what they were doing right then. Famished tongue-kissing as baby-oiled cocks rubbed in hot pursuit of the day's first orgasms. Mmmmmm. Oh, baby, that felt good. So good that it couldn't be gay. Or against the laws of nature or the state. Mr. Biggenstiff was an excellent kisser and Stacey was a quick study. The boy loved being lifted by a strong man and consumed by adoring kisses. He loved the erotic fury he felt as his tiny pink stiffness sought orgasmic relief through friction against Mr. Biggenstiff's massive meat. He loved the appreciative grunts of lust Mr. Biggenstiff was emitting as they kissed and rubbed. Nothing could be better, Stacey thought. He was wrong. Shifting one hand, Mr. Biggenstiff was able to position it so that he could enter Stacey's bumhole with two highly lubed fingers. The fingers reintroduced themselves to the boy's prostate. Roughly. Incessantly. Stacey screamed in the agony of a scorching cum. He felt every boiling sperm cell pass through his peehole and drench Mr. Biggenstiff's pubis and stomach areas. Stacey shivered with a lust so intense that he did something he never imagined he would do. He reached around Mr. Biggenstiff's hip, found his anus and shoved three of his own fingers into the man's bumhole. Mr. Biggenstiff was delightfully surprised. And erotically overloaded. He joined Stacey on the road to paradise. Spunking mightily as Stacey searched in vain for Mr. Biggenstiff's love button. No matter. The attempt was thrilling enough to draw major cummage from Mr. Biggenstiff's balls. A delightful shower it was. Though a bit constrained in the getting-clean aspect. Mr. Biggenstiff shampooed Stacey's hair again -- standing behind the boy. Which led, of course, to Mr. Biggenstiff rubbing his half-stiffie against the small of Stacey's back until it became a full stiffie. Mr. Biggenstiff masturbated Stacey's cock lovingly with one hand as he tweaked each boyish nipple with the other. Oh dear. Orgasm number two for them both. Stacey was going to need a nap on the plane after all that. Man and boy washed off, then got out of the shower and, through giggles and stolen kisses, dried each other off with fluffy towels. By that time, Stacey was ready to see if Mr. Biggenstiff wanted to teach him some more aspects of married life, thus producing the day's orgasm number three. Surprisingly not yet. "Let's get dressed and go, sweetheart. There will be plenty of time for lovemaking when we get to Spermatozoa." Stacey winced at that. Lovemaking? Was that what Mr. Biggenstiff thought they were doing? Making love? Stacey didn't love Mr. Biggenstiff. He could never love him. Mr. Biggenstiff was a man and Stacey was a boy. Men and boys didn't fall in love. What they were doing was a fun game. The funnest one he had ever played by a long shot. But not "love." Never. Still... Mr. Biggenstiff was awfully nice. He seemed to care about making Stacey happy. And he had taught him that fun game. Hmmmm. "Here we are, darling," Mr. Biggenstiff announced triumphantly as he extracted something from his suitcase. "Put these on first. I just know you'll look amazing in them." ???? Mr. Biggenstiff was holding a pair of panties! Panties!! Wispy, yellow bikini panties made out of the same see-through material Stacey's nighshirt was made of. The lovestruck man was holding the panties expectantly, as if his life depended on seeing Stacey wearing them. The idea of panties was repugnant to Stacey. But he didn't want to disappoint Mr. Biggenstiff. Who was getting to be more pugnant (opposite of repugnant) all the time. Oh my. Stacey's boy's things felt so good in those panties. And a stolen glance at a mirror told Stacey that he looked hot in the yellow dazzlers. Not manly, six-pack-abs, hairy-chest, ten-inch-cock hot. More like girlish hot. But hot. Oh my. Mr. Biggenstiff seemed to agree. Despite all the recent activity, Mr. Biggenstiff's cock was stiff again. And before Stacey could escape or even protest, Mr. Biggenstiff had drawn Stacey to his lap and was kissing his mouth. Which was very nice. And playing with Stacey through his panties. Even nicer. Stacey was hard again. The panties were soon off. Man and boy were kissing and stroking each other's cocks. And a nice, creamy cum was had by all. On the second try, Mr. Biggenstiff managed to get Stacey dressed without further incident. Though Stacey still bristled a bit at what Mr. Biggenstiff gave him to wear over his panties. Impossibly short shorts. A tight tshirt so short that it exposed his belly button. And pink, strappy sandals with a one-and-a-half-inch heel. It screamed, "I'm a cock-loving pantyboy. Pull my panties down and fuck me now before someone else gets to me first." Fortunately, Stacey didn't even know what a pantyboy was, so he did not hear his garments scream. He thought he looked stupid, but in a hot sort of way. Mr. Biggenstiff wore khakis and a polo. They grabbed their bags and left the scene of their first intimacies. Stacey got a few hot stares on the way from the room to the limo outside. But he hardly noticed. Not recognizing that every man who saw him that day would be wanking to a naughty conclusion as soon as he could. Stacey couldn't help offering himself to Mr. Biggenstiff for some kissing and clothed petting as the limo sped to the airport. Mr. Biggenstiff was such a good kisser. And a nice man. Whom Stacey did NOT love. And never would. The window between the driver and the back seat was very steamy by the time they arrived at the special gate for private planes. More hot stares for Stacey as they went through security. Stacey knew something was different about his world, but wasn't sure what it was. Oh well. The plane was very big for a private plane. And very private. Only Stacey, Mr. Biggenstiff, the pilot and the co-pilot. The aviators looked at Mr. Biggenstiff as if to say, hey, boss, if you need any help taking care of that hot number, we're here for you. But they didn't say it. When they got into the air, Stacey thought about that nap. But he needed something more than sleep. The boy unbuckled his seatbelt, stood and dropped his pants -- panties and all. Feeling sexy and desirable for the first time in his life, Stacey sissied over to Mr. Biggenstiff, wiggling his bum just a little bit provocatively. Then the boy sat on the man's lap. Well. That was a big improvement from 24 hours earlier, wasn't it? Mr. Biggenstiff unbuckled his seatbelt and welcomed Stacey with a deep, wet kiss. From which he broke off ten seconds later without touching Stacey's penis. Odd. Until... "Stand in front of me, Beautiful," the man ordered. Was Mr. Biggenstiff going to wank him straight on? And shoot the creamy stuff right at his face or chest or something? Not exactly. Though the man did embrace Stacey's cock with his hand. Mr. Biggenstiff's hand wasn't Stacey's cock's final destination. The man said, "Step closer, honey." Stacey did. Anything to get the man to rub his peter. Mr. Biggenstiff exceeded Stacey's expectations. Big time. The man licked Stacey's cockhead. Bazinga! Then the man took the entire knob into his wet mouth. Ran his tongue around it in a 360. And sucked! Stacey's ears ignited. The boy had never felt anything half as good. And the man was just getting started. Knowing that the boy showed all the signs of being a lifelong "anal enthusiast," Mr. Biggenstiff reached behind Stacey with his left hand and slid his middle finger into the boy's sweet pucker. Stacey squealed. Which added a good half inch to Mr. Biggenstiff's already big woodie. He loved making boys squeal with erotic delight. Stacey's cockteasing had aroused his husband to the point where he hoped that he wouldn't exceed his brief. Or his briefs. By fucking Stacey right on the floor of the plane. Stay on plan, the man told himself as he fingerfucked Stacey and sucked his cock. The boy was sobbing with lust. Overcome by his hormones and the awakening of his huge, dormant sexuality. Mr. Biggenstiff did a great job of delaying Stacey's orgasm. One's first blowjob shouldn't be slam-bam. He backed off from the boy's cock and prostate whenever Stacey got close. Until the intervals needed to hold back grew longer and longer. Sensing it was time to let the orgasm 18-wheeler through the roadblock, Mr. Biggenstiff finally let the boy squeal and squirt through a finger-in-the-bum-clenching mouth-drenching mammoth in its intensity. The boy's pretty bosom was heaving and his eyes were wet with emotion whenhis spermstorm finally subsided. He attacked Mr. Biggenstiff with kisses and grateful embraces, then fumbled for the man's manly meat. Mr. Biggenstiff helped Stacey's efforts by standing, dropping his pants, then kicking them off. Wouldn't you? Stacey looked at Mr. Biggenstiff's large priapis. The first time he had really gotten a full look in full daylight. How tall it stood! How proud! The prominent veins on either side throbbed with unfulfilled need. A need that Stacey could satisfy for the nice man who gave Stacey big orgasms. And that ballsack! Hanging there so casually, while so much sperm production was occurring backstage. Stacey was pretty sure that if he just licked...no, wait...not licked...cuddled those fat eggs while kissing Mr. Biggenstiff the man would shoot everywhere. Speaking of cream. What happened to the cream that Stacey had just shot? Did Mr. Biggenstiff...? He ate it?!?!?! Mr. Biggenstiff ate Stacey's boy's cream!?!?!? Stacey was simultaneously repulsed and excited by the notion that Mr. Biggenstiff would do such a gay, semi-disgusting thing. Stacey was still pretty sure at that point that Mr. Biggenstiff was gay. And that Stacey wasn't. The things we tell ourselves so that we can sleep nights. Stacey had to admit that Mr. Biggenstiff's cock was a beauty. If you liked men's cocks. Which Stacey did not. It was so big and hot and hard. Stacey guessed seven inches. It was actually 8.16 inches long. And quite fat. A lot of meat for any boy's bum. Which was why anal sex was off the table. Though Mr. Biggenstiff did deserve something special for what he had just done for Stacey. Stacey watched in wonder as Mr. Biggenstiff's cock responded to Stacey's soft caresses. It seemed to grow bigger, hotter and harder with each stroke of Stacey's soft hands. What was that? Oh! A pearl of almost clear liquid had formed at the man's peehole. Stacey dropped to his knees to examine it further. Which seemed to please Mr. Biggenstiff greatly. Was Mr. Biggenstiff thinking that Stacey was about to suck his new husband's cock? That wasn't Stacey's plan at all. He just wanted to get a closer look at things down there. Darn it. If Stacey didn't at least kiss Mr. Biggenstiff's cock a little bit, the man would be disappointed. Stacey hated disappointing people. Even someone who as early as 18 hours ago Stacey had characterized as a pervy rapist. Stacey had been wrong about that. The man had been sweet and gentle. And had introduced Stacey to a number of things that Stacey liked better than everything else on earth thus far. Plus, there was the matter of fairness. Mr. Biggenstiff had sucked Stacey's cock. Kissed it and licked it too. And did it all while he was pressing that magic bum button that Stacey didn't even know he had. And then [blush] the man had swallowed all of Stacey's boy's cream. Quite a list. Which Stacey had no intention of matching. Though he certainly could do one or two of those things for Mr. Biggenstiff. To be fair. And not disappointing. Stacey seemed to like Stacey on his knees, so the boy stayed there. The young beauty leaned forward and, in a passionate impulse, licked that pearldrop right off the tippy top of Mr. Biggenstiff's dick. Mr. Biggenstiff liked that. Stacey could tell. So, with full eye contact with Mr. Biggenstiff, Stacey swallowed the drop and licked his lips. This "stuff" is in every boy, Mr. Biggenstiff observed to himself for the millionth time. And it doesn't take all that much to bring it out. Stacey's "stuff," it appeared, had not been buried very deeply. Stacey liked the way Mr. Biggenstiff groaned. It appeared that Stacey was the one in charge at that moment. He pressed his advantage. By swirling his tongue all over Mr. Biggenstiff's skinned cockhead. Mr. Biggenstiff really liked that. And the cocksucking ice was shattered. Stacey did what he could to duplicate what Mr. Biggenstiff had done for Stacey. Except for the prostate rub, since the man was sitting. With a bit of effort, Stacey was able to get the entire head of Mr. Biggenstiff's cock into his wet mouth. Which delighted the man and choked the boy until Mr. Biggenstiff coached him into breathing through his nose. Stacey did a very nice maiden cruise around Mr. Biggenstiff's prize possession. Mostly licking. With the occasional withdrawal for some sweet cock kisses. At one point, Stacey even had the presence of mind to give Mr. Biggenstiff a nice, once-around ball-bath. Which drove Mr. Biggenstiff to the precipice. Stacey's recapping of the knob with his mouth shoved the man over. Stacey was totally unprepared for what happens when a man shoots his full, creamy load into your mouth. So he backed off after the first creamy jet hit his tonsils. He gagged a bit, but not badly. And the gagging preoccupied him from getting out of the way of creamy jets two through seven. Oh dear. The boy's pretty face was soaked with cum. As were his hair, and tshirt. Despite being in the throes of a major orgasm, Mr. Biggenstiff was able to form a rational thought. Had he grossed the boy out -- setting back his "development" by days, weeks or even months? Not really. Mr. Biggenstiff was a planner and planners like to stay on plan. The weeding was scheduled the day before Stacey's 18th birthday so that his parents could consent for him. They left the reception at midnight because any sex acts between them would not be statutory rape. But even a planner likes it when the outcome exceeds the plan. Stacey giggled. "What a mess!" he said. "You really needed that, Mr. Biggenstiff." Mr. Biggenstiff was delighted at the boy's plucky good humor. He drew the boy to his feet, then his lap and kissed him ardently. Very messy kisses. Lots of sperm. The very best kind. Both man and boy looked a fright when they had cooled off a notch. Mr. Biggenstiff eased the boy off his lap, then went to the back of the plane. Returning with a clean outfit for them both. Stacey said, "Shouldn't we wait to put those clothes on until just before landing? In case, you know, we mess up again." It appeared that Mr. Biggenstiff had made a good selection for his bride. It was a three-hour flight, so Stacey was sucked off most deliciously (and neatly} by Mr. Biggenstiff, then, asking Mr. Biggenstiff to stand, Stacey added the finger-in-the-bum enhancement as he sucked Mr. Biggenstiff to second creamy conclusion. That time, the boy was able to swallow the first two cum jets before gagging. After some more post-orgasmic kisses, Stacey fell asleep on Mr. Biggenstiff's lap. Mr. Biggenstiff soon joined him in the sleep of the innocent. They both snored lightly until the pilot pinged Mr. Biggenstiff with a 30-minutes-to-landing message. The man was all business that time, washing Stacey and himself off, then changing both into outfits much cleaner than the cumdrenched articles on the floor of the plane. Mr. Biggenstiff wore a navy polo, boat shoes and khakis. The pretty boy accepted clothing from his husband that made Stacey both blush and erect. A yellow sundress with tiny, white hearts. Tan stockings held up by a thrilling, white garter belt. A matching bra. And three-inch-stiletto, yellow heels. The boy was humiliated - emasculated - femininized - and delighted. Man and boy strapped themselves into their seats. The co-pilot appeared and did his pre-landing checks. Giving no indication that he knew what had just occurred. Though he'd been flying Mr. Biggenstiff around for ten years and knew exactly what went on with his boss's boydates and boywives. The pilots did so because, a) the pay was fantastic b} the hours were minimal and c) the perks were astounding. For example, during Mr. Biggenstiff's entire two --week honeymoon with his third boywife at Spermatozoa island, both pilot and co-pilot would be enjoying a "honeymoon experience" with a beautiful, youn, pantyboy "employee" (or, if they wished, a succession of young employees) of the resort next door to the resort where Mr. Biggenstiff would be staying. A privilege afforded to them at least once per quarter. They would die for the man. But not that day. The plane landed safely at Spermatozoa International at 2:06 p.m. local time. All was arranged for Mr. Biggenstiff and party to sail through customs to a waiting limo provided by the resort. And by 2:56 local time, man and boy were in their honeymoon suite. Alone. What to do? A swim in the pool? A late lunch? Sex? Let's stipulate that they chose sex. Not fucking sex. But definitely sex. The hotel suite was exquisite. As was the boy whose new husband was intent on offering Stacey an advanced degree in sex education over the next two weeks. Beginning with a bath in the deep, double-wide, soaking tub. Which, by pre-arrangement had been drawn and heated to coincide with their arrival. Stacey was hoping to have his cock sucked before he got into the tub, but Mr. Biggenstiff was a gentleman. Sex with clean partners while clean yourself is the best sex. At least one BEGINS in a clean condition. The couple stripped and dipped into the tub, which was a sensuous pleasure in its own right. Stacey folded himself into Mr. Biggenstiff's arms. Teasing the man's chest hair with his soft fingers. Offering his open mouth for the man's tonguey kisses. All of Stacey's innate, pantyboyish, cockteasing instincts were striving to breathe free. And mostly succeeding. As they kissed and grunted with sodomistic delight, the young beauty lightly brushed Mr. Biggenstiff's rampant cock with the backs of the fingers of his soft, right hand. For the first time, Stacey was contemplating the possibility that he might be gay. When Mr. Biggenstiff began "taking liberties," Stacey felt that he was being coerced, thus innocent of gaydoing. After the first couple of intestine-blasting orgasms, he felt as if he were exploring a strange, forbidden, new world of sinful pleasure -- kind of like that time he and Jimmy Pubpounder had sneaked behind the barn at Jimmy's grandpa's farm and SMOKED cigarettes!!! Kid stuff. But on the plane, Stacey had dropped his drawers and sat on Mr. Biggenstiff's lap. With full same-sex intent. And there he was. Naked. Willingly, eagerly naked in bed with the equally naked Mr. Biggenstiff. Playing teasy games with the man's fat prick. As he tongue --kissed the man's mouth. Willingly. Eagerly. So that settled that. Stacey Wigglebum was gay, World. Or at least acting gay. Convincingly. Oh my. There were those delicious fingers in his bumhole again! Until yesterday, Stacey couldn't have contemplated the concept of fingers in the bumhole. Let alone the anal pleasures they engendered. If fingers felt that good, how would a cock feel? No! The boy dismissed that ridiculous notion. Mostly. And focused on the building pressure in his nutbag as the man tormented the boy's prostate without mercy. Oh! The man slid south and took the boy's prick into his mouth as he massaged his internal "boy button." Powerful sensations!!! Urgent sensations. Stacey squirmed and squealed as his orgasm rolled down the tracks toward him. Just as things had reached critical mass, he looked down at Mr. Biggenstiff doing his delicious task. The man's eyes locked with Stacey and the boy saw something that scared him more than the Speedball roller coaster at Motionterror Park last summer. Mr. Biggenstiff loved Stacey! There was no mistaking that look, even for a callow lad like our Stacey. How did that happen? They only knew each other for two days. Stacey didn't love Mr. Biggenstiff. He never could. But Mr. Biggenstiff loved Stacey! Stacey wanted to feel icky-bad about Mr. Biggenstiff's misdirected love. But all he felt was power. Power over men. Men who desired him and would do anything for Stacey if the boy let them suck his cock and kiss him. The thought, the very thought, that, for the first time, Stacey had power. Even over a man as manly as Mr. Biggenstiff... Stacey screamed out in full, heaving ecstasy as he filled the man's - his man's -- mouth with sweet love juices. Mr. Biggenstiff sucked it down eagerly. Feeling confident that his third boywife had just had the moment of twin revelations that all his boys had undergone: "I'm not gay, but I love doing gay things" and "I'm really in charge here because men want me to do sex things and I get to decide if I do those sex things." A good revelation, Mr. Biggenstiff knew. He also knew that anal sex usually soon followed those twin revelations. Mr. Biggenstiff liked anal sex. He also loved having his prick lovingly sucked too. Which was what Stacey did as soon as he returned to his home galaxy. Stacey was becoming an excellent little fellatrix, Mr. Biggenstiff decided. And a quick learner about the location of the prostate. The boy was rubbing the man's "walnut" slowly, but enthusiastically as he consumed the man's cockhead with tongue and mouth. Because he wanted to. He had the power. At 6 p.m. Mr. Biggenstiff had to be the grownup. "I love what we're doing, Baby," he told the boy, "but we haven't eaten since breakfast and I'm hungry. Are you hungry?" Funny. Stacey hadn't thought about food. Though he had consumed quite a bit of protein that fine day. He could eat. And he loved being led by his masterful man. Even though Stacey was powerful too. Because he allowed the man to master him. And he could stop whenever he wanted. At the moment, he was enjoying the ride. Stacey's powerful man took him to the bathroom where they enjoyed a nice warm shower together. And a mostly dry, soapy-cock-to-soapy-cock mutual cum. Because the sperm reserves of man and boy had been relocated from their testicles to each other's stomachs. As always, Mr. Biggenstiff dried and powdered his boywife. Which produced two fresh stiffies. But, despite each lover's "growing need," Mr. Biggenstiff was resolute about going to dinner. The man dressed first -- in Bermuda shorts, sandals and a Hawaiian shirt. Then he gave Stacey his "outfit du soir." Oh! Stacey wasn't sure he could wear that outfit in public. Until Mr. Biggenstiff promised him an unnamed "something special" after dinner. And told the boy that on Spermatozoa Island, the boys all dressed provocatively for the men. Stacey's particular form of provocation came in the form of a super- skimpy, emerald-green (for his red hair) string-bikini bottom; matching, strappy sandals with a three-inch, stiletto heel; and what wasn't really a bra -- more like a two-inch-wide, elastic, emerald-green, satin strap that covered his nipples. It was humiliating! And wildly exciting. Mr. Biggenstiff said that he didn't want all the men staring at Stacey's beautiful nipples, which were Mr. Biggenstiff's alone to suck. Stacey didn't mind Mr. Biggenstiff's male possessiveness. He kind of liked it. Stacey spent a bit more time than he had intended admiring himself in one of the room's full-length mirrors. He noticed right away (right after he noticed how truly beautiful and sexy he was) that the heels made his chest/nipples jut forward and his bottom jut backwards. He also noticed that his bottomcheeks were 98% exposed! It was a slutty look. Very slutty. That would arouse every man he met that evening. Stacey shivered at the prospect. Finally, off they went to the resort's dining room at ocean's edge. Stacey was holding onto Mr. Biggenstiff's arm. Partly because he was only partially confident in the stiletto heels. But mostly because he wanted to show any other boys who might be looking at Mr. Biggenstiff that the man was Stacey's property! The ma?tre d' greeted Mr. Biggenstiff by name and made a big fuss over Stacey. Which told the boy that he was probably not the first young beauty Mr. Biggenstiff had brought to Spermatozoa. No matter. Stacey was living in the present. And a very fine present it was. There were 15 couples in the room when Stacey and Mr. Biggenstiff entered. Manly men and their sissyish pantyboys. All the boys were deliciously beautiful. But Stacey was the true banquet. Thirty heads turned when Stacey wiggled his exposed bum through the dining room to their table. They're all looking at my ass, Stacey thought. I must have a really nice one. One that they would want to do sex things with. A thought that 48 hours ago would have terrified him. Now it made his penis very stiff -- tenting his bikini bottoms. Stacey made sure that everyone had a good, long look at his ass before he wiggled his way into the booth. Mr. Biggenstiff sat next to him. "They think you're exceptionally beautiful, Honey. Which is an amazing compliment because every boy on Spermatozoa Island is a stunner. They also think you have the best ass they've ever seen. I agree." Stacey beamed with narcissistic pride. And rewarded Mr. Biggenstiff's compliment with a long, tonguey kiss. Until Mr. Biggenstiff stopped it so they wouldn't die of starvation. Man and boy ate plates of red meat and veggies. Kissing now and then when their ardor overwhelmed them. But no cock-fondling. Which meant that when dinner was over, both were in quite a state. Not so much of a state that Stacey would deny the other diners a nice exit promenade. But a state. Back in the suite, Mr. Biggenstiff proposed a bath. Mmmmm. Naked in the tub together. Lots of kisses and toyings with private parts. But no orgasms. Mr. Biggenstiff had promised Stacey "something special." He hoped it wasn't a night of celibacy. When man and boy were dried and powdered, they retired to one of the suite's king-sized beds. Lying side by side. Kissing and rubbing cocks. Oh. Stacey felt a long-delayed orgasm approaching and whimpered accordingly. Which was the signal for Mr. Biggenstiff to back off. "I don't want you to cum yet, Sweetheart. Not until we've done something special." Stacey panicked. Was something special FUCKING?!?!?! Stacey didn't want a big prick in his heinie!! Ripping him apart!! He started to protest but Mr. Biggenstiff had already lain on his back. Magnificent cock pointing skyward. Did the man expect the boy to sit ion that iron pipe?? He couldn't. He didn't. That wasn't the plan for the evening at all. "I want you to sit on my face, Darling," Mr. Biggenstiff said. Huh? Sit on his face? How? Why? The answers: "Come over here and kneel, straddling my shoulders, facing my feet. That's it. Oh, what a beautiful sight your asshole is. Now ease your bum down onto my face. I'm going to lick and eat your asshole until you shoot your cream. For as long as you like. Which I think will be quite a while." Oh. This was the outright gayest thing they had ever done. A man "eating out" a boy's asshole! Would he really... Oh. He would!! Stacey was "sitting pretty" as Mr. Biggenstiff stuck his long, talented tongue right up Stacey's bazingahole. Stacey squealed at the outright filth of it all. And the audacity of Mr. Biggenstiff. It was so intense that the boy's eyes filled with tears. He was so flattered that someone would adore him so much that he would tongue out his asshole. The boy's pentup orgasm built quickly and was joyfully enjoyed by man and boy. Stacey was a generous boy. After his heartstopper of a cum, he leaned over and sucked Mr. Biggenstiff's cock as the man continued to eat him out. Stacey's swirling tongue soon made Mr. Biggenstiff's balls erupt. Followed forthwith by Stacey's second spunkfest. Neither combatant would leave the battlefield, so Stacey swallowed Mr. Biggenstiff second load, then released his own hot cream onto Mr. Biggenstiff's cum-drenched chest hairs. Man and boy were more exhausted than you were just reading that. So they settled back for some sweet, naked kissing. With Stacey telling Mr. Biggenstiff how grateful he was for what the man did. "That was awesome, Mr. Biggenstiff. Will we be doing that a lot?" "Whenever you want, Baby." What happened next puzzled Stacey a bit. The man reached for the remote and turned on the television. Television? They didn't need no STINKING television. They had other fun stuff to do. But, as always, Mr. Biggenstiff had a plan. He punched in a few numbers and summoned a very selective piece for the 96-inch, HD screen. "Anal Adventures 42: A Panty Boy Enterprises Production" Huh? Stacey looked at Mr. Biggenstiff, who said, this is a really good movie, babydoll. I know you'll like it." Stacey wasn't so sure. Until he saw the actors. A deliciously pretty, hosed-and-gartered, 18- year-old pantyboy named Ralphie and a man named Bruno right out of central casting for 30-something stud. The man and the boy were scorching hot for each other. Just like Mr. Biggenstiff and I are, Stacey thought. His previously vanquished penis twitched as he saw the almost-naked couple tongue kissing and fingering each other's assholes. He blushed when he saw the unrestrained ecstasy on Ralphie's face when Bruno ate his "pussy" with loving gusto. Had Stacey looked like that -- so out-of-control and [gasp] in love with the pussyeater? He stole a look at Mr. Biggenstiff's penis. It was moving a bit, but could use Stacey's help. So the boy fondled the man's prick as they watched the movie. Stacey imagined that in the next bit, the boy would be sucking the man's prick as analingus proceeded. Not exactly. They were going off script. Bruno was squirting some stuff called Spermbutt Anal Lubricant onto his fingers and using it to further enlarge the boy's bumhole. Why was he doing that? Oh. "Run, Dummy!" Stacey was mentally saying to the boy in the movie. "He's going to FUCK you! And probably kill you in the process!" But Ralphie didn't run. He knew what was coming and he wanted it to happen. Wanted to be fucked. More than he wanted his next breath. When the man thought that he had done as much lubrication and dilation as he could, he rubbed the Spermbutt Anal Lubricant all over his amazingly large cock -- bigger than Mr. Biggenstiff's even. Stacey wanted to cover his eyes, but he had to see the boy's sad, violent demise. It would be a lesson to other boys who thought they could take huge cocks into their bums and live to tell about it. The boy willingly got onto all fours and wiggled his ass at his man. Suicidal, no? The man knelt behind the boy, lined up his shot and slid the entire length of his enormous schwannstucker into the boy's bowels. Oh the horror! The screams! The blood! Wait. None of that. Just that look of ecstasy again. Only more ecstatic. The boy was being fucked. And he liked it. Loved it. And sperm jumping from his teeny peeny a minute after he was penetrated proved that it was no phony act. Stacey almost didn't notice that Mr. Biggenstiff shot his spunk at that point in the film. Did Mr. Biggenstiff think that men should fuck boys? Did he want to fuck Stacey? Did he expect Stacey to let Mr. Biggenstiff fuck him? Mr. Biggenstiff kissed Stacey goodnight, rolled over and went to sleep. Stacey was so tired that he soon joined him. Chapter Four -- Marriage, Day Two Stacey awoke to Mr. Biggenstiff bustling around with the breakfast that room service had just brought in. He was wearing only a t-shirt and his erect morning wood looked delicious to Stacey. So the boy hustled over to his man, threw a pillow on the floor, knelt on it and showed the man once again why pantyboys are superior to women. Stacey kissed, licked and sucked his man's cock until he harvested the day's first fruits. Swallowing the entire hot load that time. Progress, ever progress. Mr. Biggenstiff returned the favor, then the lovers sat down to a hearty breakfast of ham and eggs. "Let's go the pool before we wash up today," Mr. Biggenstiff suggested. Sounded good to Stacey. Though he wondered what kind of ridiculously sexy outfit Mr. Biggenstiff would want Stacey to wear. He soon found out. Mr. Biggenstiff wore a standard, black speedo. He handed Stacey what the boy could only call a pouch with floss. The pouch covered his boy's things. Barely. The floss held the pouch on around his waist, but exposed his entire ass and, if he bent over, his asshole. Well. It had been fun teasing everyone last night at dinner, Stacey recalled. So he put the so-called suit on. And blushed when Mr. Biggenstiff wolf-whistled. They walked to the pool arm-in-arm and saw seven or eight couples already there. More stares. Even some drools. Oops. Stacey had an erection. Somehow the suit managed to stay on. Mr. Biggenstiff sat in a lounge chair. Stacey wasn't sure exactly what to do. He wasn't sure that his suit would survive a dip in the pool. Then Benny arrived. Benny was the second-prettiest boy on Spermatozoa Island at that moment. Blond. Just turned nineteen. Well-filled speedos. "Hi, I'm Benny," the boy said to Stacey. Oh dear. This was a pretty boy. His cock twitched. Did Mr. Biggenstiff notice? Stacey didn't want to make Mr. Biggenstiff jealous. Stacey wasn't attracted to Benny. But he was just so pretty. "Is that your boyfriend?" Benny asked. "He's really good-looking." Hey. What was this kid doing sniffing around Mr. Biggenstiff? "That's my husband," Stacey declared proudly. Drawing a sly smile from Mr. Biggenstiff. Benny said, "You lucky duck. You're married. You two can be together all the time. What's your name?" "Stacey. Stacey Biggenstiff." Oh my. Had Stacey used his husband's last name as his own? He had. "My name's Benny. Benny Proudcock. And that's my fiance over there." He had to ask. "Do you and your fiance 'do things'?" "You mean fuck and suck each other's cocks? Every chance we get. He and his wife have an 'arrangement.' I stay with him every Wednesday night and every other weekend. And we come here for four weeks every summer." Four weeks, Stacey thought. Mr. Biggenstiff only signed them up for a chintzy two weeks. He'd have to speak to him later. "Let's take a walk, Stacey. I'll show you around." Stacey hesitated. "Go ask your husband if it's all right. I won't bite." Stacey went over to Mr. Biggenstiff. "I see you're making a new friend. That's good. Boys should play with boys their own age." "But Mr. Biggenstiff. Benny wants to walk with me. We're so skimpily dressed and all the boys are so gay here. What if he wants to kiss me? Or [blush] suck my cock?" Mr. Biggenstiff chuckled. "Of course he'll want to kiss you and suck your cock. You're the most beautiful boy in the galaxy. If you want him to, let him do it. And suck his too, if you want. Perfectly normal. Boys should play with boys their own age." Stacey's notion of what was "perfectly normal" was evolving rapidly. Mr. Biggenstiff wasn't one bit jealous of Benny. Hmmm. What a strange new world he was in. Better in every way from the world he came from. Benny offered Stacey his hand and Stacey took it. Stacey offered Mr. Biggenstiff a little toodle-oo wave and the boys were off. Like Stacey, Benny was practically naked, wearing only a small square of cloth, front and back, held together by string. Both boys had pretty sandals on their feet. Stacey was a little self-conscious about walking hand-in-hand with another boy until he saw two of the boys he had seen at dinner the night before. They were sitting on a bench kissing and stroking each other's cocks most insistently. "Morning is usually boy's play time here," Benny explained. "The men are usually tired from the night before and appreciate the nap. We like it because their balls are recharged when we see them for lunch. And they lunch on us." Stacey blushed. A culture had evolved in that place. Stacey had to ask. "How much is it to stay here?" "I saw a rate card once. One week if you bring your own boy is $30,000. Twice that if they supply the boy. I think it's cheaper if you stay longer. But that includes meals and everything. Even Spermbutt Anal Lubricant." "That was the stuff in that movie we saw last night," Stacey blurted out. Benny giggled. "You were watching movies instead of fucking?" Again, a blurt, "But we don't, I mean I don't..." "You don't fuck? Why?" "I'm a virgin. I didn't even suck a cock until yesterday. And I'm afraid it'll hurt." "Of course it hurts. The first few times. But even those times are awesome. My man and I have probably fucked a thousand times. And I've given it up to other men too. Lots of them. Including Mom's boyfriends. Fucking is the most fun there is. Don't miss it. Would you like to fuck my bum now, just to see what it's like on that end? I would never fuck you before your husband did. That's his thing." Stacey looked horrified. "I could never..." "OK, calm down, Stacey. Don't worry. No one does anything on Spermatozoa that he doesn't want to do. Would you like to kiss me? I've been dying to kiss you since I saw you. You're so beautiful." And, without asking for a reply, Benny stepped forward, took Stacey into his arms and kissed him. Deep-tongue style. Stacey practically swooned. He had had no idea that French kissing another boy would be so delicious. Benny was an excellent kisser. And, as they embraced, Stacey could tell that the kisses had aroused Benny's beast. Calling on a reserve of passion he scarcely knew he had, Stacey dropped to his knees, lifted Benny's swimsquare, and consumed the head of the boy's five firm inches. Benny groaned with delight as his new friend showed off his developing skills. Benny was soon pumping cream into Stacey's eager mouth and squealing like the pantyboy he was. Being a fair-minded person, Benny returned the favor, then they walked arm-in-arm back to the pool together. Stopping every few paces for some kissing. Benny returned Stacey to Mr. Biggenstiff. "Thank you, Benny," the man said. "I hope we see you again soon." Benny said, "Thank you, sir. Your boywife and I are going to be good friends. I hope we see you at one of the pantyboy spunk parties over at the convention center one night before you go." OMG!! Was Benny flirting with Mr. Biggenstiff? Would Mr. Biggenstiff be jumping in bed with Benny because Benny liked to fuck and Stacey didn't? Stacey would scratch Benny's eyes out before that happened. And what was a pantyboy spunk party? "We're newlyweds, Benny," Mr. Biggenstiff said. "I don't think we'll be attending any pantyboy spunk parties. Unless that's what Stacey wants later on. But thanks for the offer. When are they scheduled? [As if Mr. Biggenstiff didn't know the whole spunk party scene by heart.]" "Every night at 8. I have to go. My fiance wants to take me back to our suite and, you know. Bye, Stacey." "Bye." There was Benny again. Bragging about getting fucked. While Mr. Biggenstiff's boywife wouldn't fuck. Well, that's changing, Stacey vowed. "Did you enjoy your walk with Benny, honey?" Mr. Biggenstiff asked sweetly. "Oh, yes. But I think I want to go back to the room now." No sane man turns that down. Stacey clung closely to Mr. Biggenstiff all the way back to the room. Keeping him away from the likes of Benny and their pantyboy spunk parties, which, now that Stacey thought about it, wasn't that difficult to decipher. If fucking was what it took to make it in his new world, he would fuck. Mr. Biggenstiff had barely closed the door behind him when Stacey threw himself into his man's arms and implored, "Please fuck me! I want you to fuck me. I need it!" No sane man turns that down either. Despite being a stickler on cleanliness before sex, Mr. Biggenstiff was a practical man. Capable of making a compromise when an opportunity beckons. It was fucking time. No bath required. "Oh, Baby. I want to make love to you too. I don't want to hurt you so we'll go nice and slow, OK?" Actually, Stacey liked fast. But he saw the wisdom of Mr. Biggenstiff's approach. There being that rule about trying to fit ten pounds of cock into a one-pound hole and all that. "OK," he whimpered sexily. "Let me just get you good and lubed up with my fingers and this Spermbutt Anal Lubricant. There. How does that feel, Honey?" It felt great! Especially when the man slid his fingers over Stacey's prostate. Oh. Did Mr. Biggenstiff just slide in a third finger? He never did that before. That was a stretcher. Mr. Biggenstiff dilated and lubricated as well as he could. It was time to shape his boywife's expectations. Then fucking time. "It will hurt the first time, Stacey. But then it'll feel really good. I'll stop and let you get used to the stretching. Just trust me and we'll get through this first fuck. Then we can fuck any time we want." Mr. Biggenstiff lubed up his impossibly excited cock while thinking about what a great day this was. Only his eighth virgin. Each one different. None as pretty as this one. He arranged the nude Stacey with three big pillows under his stomach. Giving Mr. Biggenstiff a magnificent view of the ass he would take as his own. When the man thrust in his cockknob and four inches of shaft, he listened for a scream. And didn't get it. The boy was grunting and a bit sweaty. But not cock-wounded. "Are you all right, Baby?" "I think so. Is there more?" "About four more inches. Do you want it?" Stacey sobbed briefly as he contemplated the pain that he was expecting but hadn't felt. Stacey was no wimp. "I want it all. Give me the whole thing!" Stacey got his wish. And his first pain as a result. But whimper pain. Not scream pain. "I'm so proud of you, Stacey," Mr. Biggenstiff said. "You're a brave young boy. Do you like having my cock in your bottom?" Stacey grunted. "Is that a yes?" "Yes. Please wait a minute until I can stretch." "That's the plan." To calm him down, Mr. Biggenstiff reached around Stacey's hip, slid between the boy's stomach and the pillow and grabbed the boy's half-stiff cock. Half-stiff in that situation was gold star. A boy who really loved gay, man-pantyboy anal sex, to be precise. Mr. Biggenstiff knew it was time to push and pull when Stacey began to wiggle his bum. Not to dislodge the man's cock. To get the man moving. To get more cock. Mr. Biggenstiff moved. Stacey cried out in lust. They slid and strained and made the naughtiest noises on earth for a good 23 minutes. At which time Stacey's balls boiled first. The anal contractions of Stacey's orgasm set Mr. Biggenstiff off. And Stacey's guts were sperm-drenched for the first time. Now Stacey knew what he wanted to do with the rest of his life. When Stacey's ass involuntarily rejected Mr. Biggenstiff's spent cock, Stacey took it into his sweet mouth, poop juice and all, and sucked it back to a noble stand. All the better to fuck Stacey with. For round two, Mr. Biggenstiff positioned Stacey on his back. Knees up. Toes pointed. The man slid two pillows under the small of the boy's back to improve his angle, then covered his angel with his body. Stacey was a helpless pantyboy. Pinned under a dominant, snorting man. A slave to the man's raging lust. At least that was the way Stacey imagined it. And he liked thinking that way. Mr. Biggenstiff liked sliding his recycled stiffie into Stacey's pootie so easily that time. The boy flung his arms and legs around Mr. Biggenstiff and tongue-kissed his husband all throughout the scorching fuck. It was a good thing every suite had a defibrillator, Mr. Biggenstiff thought. It was an extraordinarily active fuck. And a full consummation of their marriage. Except for one detail. Which was soon cleared up. As man and boy lay naked in each other's arms. Chests heaving. Cocks (and Stacey's ass) drooling. Stacey said, "I don't want to call you 'Mr. Biggenstiff' any more. Can I call you [gulp] 'Daddy?'" Mr. Biggenstiff's heart leapt. "Of course, my darling." For the record, neither of Mr. Biggenstiff's former boywives had called him "Daddy." "And Daddy, I want to dress pretty for you too. All the time. In girlie things. Would that be OK?" Mr. Biggenstiff nodded emotionally and squeezed Stacey even more tightly. Then the frosty, buttercream icing on the best day of both their lives: "I love you, Daddy!" Stacey said. Mr. Biggenstiff's eyes filled with tears as he said, "And I love you, Stacey, my love." They kissed. And lived happily ever after. For three years at least. Please tell me what you think at [email protected].