Subject: Sissyboy Scenes 27 (gay adult-youth) Sissyboy Scenes 27 (gay adult-youth) By Beautiful Creamer I don’t do this stuff and you shouldn’t either. What you should do is donate to . 100 Strokes Why did Barbara get all the attention and Henry got none? The question 12-year-old Henry asked himself (and his parents) often about sibling issues between him and his 16-year-old sister. Barbara was definitely Mom’s favorite. Mom and Barbara did all sorts of girlie things together. Mom bought Barbara TONS of clothes and girl stuff. Henry’s only possession was a dog bowl in which he was fed gruel once every two or three days. OK. That’s an exaggeration. But worse than material things, Barbara seemed to get way more attention from Mom and Daddy than Henry did. For example, every night before bed, Barbara would get into her nightgown, then call Mom. Mom would then lovingly stroke Barbara’s long, straight, naturally-blond hair 100 times. 100 strokes! Which was 100 more than Henry got. So he complained and whined until one night at bedtime, Daddy said, “OK, Mr. Pain-in-the-ass. Tonight you’re getting 100 strokes. Into your bedroom now!” Oh my! That wasn’t good. Daddy was using his, “I’m fed up with your antics, young man” voice. Suddenly Henry had the worst notion. When Daddy said Henry was getting 100 strokes, did he [gasp] [whimper] mean Daddy was going to SPANK Henry’s bottom 100 times?!?!? Oh no! Henry couldn’t endure that. He was delicate. And 100 spanks was off-the-chart mean. Daddy wasn’t mean. And Henry couldn’t remember the last time Daddy spanked him. If ever. What could Daddy mean? Henry was about to find out. The young beauty sped to his bedroom and considered locking the door until Daddy calmed down. Bad idea, the lad decided quickly. That would just make Daddy angrier. So he stood there. By his bed. In his pajamas. Trembling. Two minutes passed. Then five. He could hear mumbles in the hallway. Mom and Daddy were conferring. Were they deciding whether capital punishment was the right answer for Henry? Seven minutes. Daddy burst into Henry’s bedroom carrying a small bag. He looked at Henry oddly, then said, “Off with those pajama bottoms, Mister.” Oh no! It was true! Daddy was going to spank Henry 100 times! Fight or flight? Or just drop his pants and beg for mercy. Daddy decided for Henry. He pulled Henry’s pajama bottoms down, exposing the boy’s inexplicably hard penis. Humiliating Henry. As well as perplexing him. Was Daddy going to spank Henry’s penis and testicles? “Lie on your back on your bed, Henry,” Daddy said in a much nicer voice. The man seemed interested in Henry’s bare bottom half! As Alice said, “Curiouser and curiouser.” Then Daddy pulled a chair up to the side of the bed, positioned it where he could be comfortable and produced the mysterious bag. From which, Daddy extracted a plastic bottle of something that Henry thought was labeled Slickyboy Masturbation aksaray escort Cream (a Spermbutt Industries product). Huh? Daddy slathered a whole bunch of the stuff onto his right hand and then (and I’m not making this up) laid his well-greased hand onto Henry’s penis!! His penis!!!! The startled Henry cried out and arched his back. What was Daddy doing? Daddy wasn’t moving his hand. Just resting it. Feeling Henry’s penis throb with ambiguous delight. No one but Henry had touched his penis since Henry was six and started taking his own baths. Henry had never masturbated. Didn’t know it was an entertainment option. And there was Daddy. Touching IT! Gripping IT gently. Then saying, “One hundred strokes starting now.” Daddy rubbed once. Along the four-inch length of Henry’s cockage. Henry gasped! It felt amazing! The second stroke involved more of Daddy’s thumb. Rubbing that part of Henry’s cockhead on the underside that looks like an arrow point. Oh! Wonder of wonders. Henry felt things he had never dared to feel. And there were still 98 strokes to go! Daddy continued stroking. Slowly. Counting softly. Almost to himself. Daddy’s eyes sparkled as he watched Henry writhe with astonished pleasure. At stroke 18, Daddy stopped. Henry whimpered. Was it one hundred already? Please no. Daddy noted and liked Henry’s reaction. Daddy locked eyes with Henry as he Slickyboyed his hand a bit more. He asked one question. “Shall I go on?” Henry almost threw his neck out nodding in the affirmative. Daddy smiled. And made a request/order. “Lift your pajama shirt, Honey and show me your nipples.” Honey? Daddy hadn’t called Henry honey since, Henry couldn’t remember when. And nipples? What was that about? Henry had no idea where the train was going but he wanted to be on it when it left the station. The young beauty lifted his shirt and showed Daddy his puffy nubs. “I thought so,” Daddy said softly. Then he touched each nipple with a slippery finger. “Hard as titanium.” Henry didn’t know what titanium was. And until that moment, he hadn’t known what his nipples were all about. They were there so you can squeak and moan as your Daddy torments them. So good! Wait! Did Daddy’s nipple rubs count toward 100 strokes? Henry hoped not. He wanted all 82 remaining strokes to be on his penis. Which had been sending him the most fascinating signals. Still, he enjoyed the nippular detour a lot. So did Daddy. But he had work to do on the major component. His boy’s ferociously virginal penis. Henry was relieved when Daddy resumed his penile petting at 19. Oh dear! At stroke 24, Henry was feeling an urgency he had never experienced. Was this what they taught him in school about what happens when a man and his lawful, loving wife join together to create a new life? Would he be shooting that sperm and semen stuff? But where’s the lady? Didn’t he need to… Oh! Henry screamed alsancak escort most unmanfully as he unloaded the first orgasm of his sweet life. His first thoughts: Why didn’t the teacher say anything about it being the most awesome feeling in the world? And, why did the teacher leave out the part about how your Daddy giving you fewer than 100 strokes at bedtime would be just as effective as that getting-married stuff? Good questions. Daddy gave Henry six strokes during the boy’s intense pleasure, then stopped to let Henry recover. Forty-five seconds later, Henry’s eyes fluttered open. He looked at Daddy with a love he had never aimed at anyone. Which made Daddy happy; and resolute to make the most of the remaining 70 strokes. Henry wasn’t completely able to focus his eyes yet, but it appeared that Daddy was scooping some of the creamy stuff that had blasted from his penis and rubbing it all over Henry’s testicles. Yum! Daddy did that for five full minutes, at which point Henry’s boy pole was standing tall and proud again. Daddy smiled and chuckled at Mason’s youthful resilience. Then he reloaded his hand with Slickyboy. Slowly. Teasingly. Not meeting Henry’s pretty eyes. And then locking orbs with a gaze Henry hadn’t seen before from Daddy. It occurred to Henry at that moment and not until that moment that there was another participant in this most wonderful time of Henry’s life thus far. To wit, Daddy! Daddy was enjoying all this. It wasn’t a chore. Or a necessary way for a parent to treat a whiny, complaining child. Daddy liked Henry’s penis! And Henry’s nipples. And Henry’s [blush] orgasms. Henry was pretty sure that if he had been bold enough to reach for Daddy’s pubic region, he would discover that Daddy was a hard and excited as Henty was. But that was way too much thinking. And anyway, Daddy was giving Henry instructions. What? Oh. OK. Daddy wanted Henry to take off his pajama top and be completely NAKED!! NAKED!! Henry wiggled to comply instantly. He wanted to be naked for the next 70 strokes. And anything else Daddy suggested or ordered. Henry lived the look in Daddy’s eyes as the man considered his prize. A lovely, virginal boy, ready to jump off a sexual cliff for Daddy anytime he wanted. Now was a good time. Henry hadn’t noticed, but during the latest pit stop, Daddy had lubed up both of his hands. Then he noticed. Really noticed. The enflamed 40-year-old slid his well-greased left hand between Henry’s legs and, with hardly an “excuse-me’ entered Henry’s anus with a very rude, very inquisitive finger. Henry screamed. He didn’t mean to. He regretted it, since he was afraid it would trigger a race down the hall by Barbara and Mom to “save” Henry. Mom would be holding her hair brush, ready to fight Daddy off with it. To protect her child. Barbara would be taking pics for Facebook of her nerdy, naked brother being finger-fucked by his amasya escort father. But no. All was calm. Except for Henry’s erotic muscles. Which were ablaze. Daddy had found something inside Henry that was making the young beauty half mad with lust. A second finger did little to calm things down. Daddy brought his other lubed hand into play. Expertly pleasuring the boy’s penis as he tortured his prostate. Somehow, Henry was able to endure all that for 23 strokes before exploding spectacularly in a full-body spermstorm that threatened the boy’s life. In the best possible way. Daddy was merciful. Giving his loving son only six during-spunkup strokes, followed by a four-minute break. With 41 strokes to go, Henry began to plan his funeral. Then stopped. And captured an idea in his pretty young head. “Daddy,” the virginal angel said, “Do kisses count as strokes?” Daddy smiled. “No way, Honey. Do you want me to kiss you?” “Oh yes, Daddy. But I want two other things too.” Daddy was wary, but asked. “Such as…? “First, Daddy, I want you to get naked too.” Daddy smiled. Sometimes the cards fall right, he thought. Compliance with the first wish took 35 seconds. Then… “Oh, Daddy, you’re beautiful. So I have to ask, Can I do 100 strokes on you too?” Those cards were all aces that day. “Henry, Honey, I’ve stopped counting.” And Daddy lay on his back as Henry explored Daddy’s big, fat prick and balls with his fairy fingers. Then Henry moved in for a kiss. Deep. Tongueish. Lots of erotic saliva. Unbeknownst to Henry, but beknownst to Daddy, Mom and Barbara were enjoying similar enjoyments in Barbara’s room. And had been doing so for several months. Daddy had been insisting that his wife afford him the same license with Henry. A license she grudgingly granted after Daddy got her a Tesla and a new living room set. It was worth it. Daddy’s prick was enjoying Henry’s kind attentions, even though he hadn’t lubricated. But Henry wanted it all to be perfect. So he broke the kiss and looked for the bottle of Slickyboy. Which had rolled under the bed. Oh dear. Henry was impatient. There was another4 ready source of lubrication. And it was handy. Henry’s mouth. Good idea. Henry kissed his way down Daddy’s hairy chest until he reached the man’s leaky knob. It was so beautiful! Henry kissed it. Then licked the pre-cum off it. Then with an impulse of passion, he took Daddy’s cockhead into his little mouth. Yum! Henry loved sucking Daddy’s cock. Loved making Daddy happy. He loved Daddy’s grunts and groans of delight as his son fellated him. Was it any wonder that Daddy would last only seven minutes before flooding his boy’s pretty mouth with a full load of baby bullets? Henry swallowed most of it. Retaining some to spice up their post-coital French kiss. Like men the world over, the sleep monster preys on the post-coital. The naked, entangled lovers drifted off with one lovely thought on their minds. They could do 100 strokes every night! Or 200 if they wanted. Wouldn’t you? AUTHOR’S NOTE: Another short one. All I can do at the moment. This is only the second story I ever did where nobody gets fucked. The other was “Sissyboy Fashion.” Hope that’s OK.

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