Service

A Pantyboy Profile

by Gingerfred Man

  

INTRODUCTION

Men who meet my three best friends and me always say we're "delicious." Like we're food for them or something. I guess we do provide nourishment for their deepest hungers.

My name is Cheryl. I'm 20 years old and I'm a pantyboy.

If you "read" Panty Boy magazine (and who doesn't?) you know that I was Miss First-Half-of-June 2002 and they did a big pictorial on little old me. Oh, I'll bet you remember it now. The New York Times reported that there was "an inexplicable outbreak of dehydration cases among men in the United States" for the two-week period after my pictorial appeared. The "newspaper of record" wondered out loud why the Center for Disease Control in Atlanta didn't look into the situation. The reason for the affliction was pretty clear to the boss of the CDC, who was a regular reader of Panty Boy and knew that men across America couldn't stop looking at my pictures and stroking their Johnsons to creamy conclusions.

That was pretty flattering for me. <Giggle>

Maybe you remember my second pictorial in Panty Boy's annual swimsuit issue. My three best friends and I were shown "enjoying" each other while wearing pretty lingerie, then being enjoyed by big, hairy, hunky men on a beach that caters to pantyboys and the real men who lust for us.

Doing the first pictorial resulted in me receiving 478,386 fan emails, 3,478 of which were serious, I'm guessing, proposals of marriage. Men out there must like me, really like me. But the second pictorial was even better for me. It introduced me to my best friends, lovers and roommates, my fellow pantyboys, Judy, Amy and Sandy.

Knowing and loving those three angels has made me the happiest sissy in the world. They're sweet, ultra-feminine, gorgeous babes with stiff little cocks, pretty pink ball bags, tight "pussies" and a very healthy attitude toward sex with men, each other and me.

Like me, Judy is a blonde, but her golden crown is long and straight, while mine is short and styled. She has the prettiest three-and-a-half inch cock in the world (I've looked around for comparison) and perfect erect nipples, framed by her bra-shaped tan lines.

Amy is a brunette with a curly, boyish cut. Her features are probably the most masculine of us all, but she more than makes up for it by being the frilliest and sissiest of the quartet. She has a smile that is regulated by the Atomic Energy Commission and a warm, giving nature for almost every nice man she meets.

Sandy, a redhead with green eyes that pierce men's souls, is a little cheater. She's already heartbreakingly beautiful, but she has "augmented" herself with almost A-cup titties! And at three inches, she has the teeniest little popsy of any of us. All of which give her an edge when we compete (which we surely do) for men. Those hormones she takes haven't softened her stiffies (which she always seems to have) or her cum production (oceans worth).

I must admit that I'm well equipped to co-exist with these fabulous girls. I am (no kidding) even prettier than the rest of those tarty little tramps <giggle>, with legs that promise (and deliver) men intense delights. I also have just the beginnings of some titties of my own. They grow a little each day and they're so sensitive that a man's soft kisses on my nipples have me gasping and ejaculating helplessly.

The four of us live in a fabulous, four-bedroom, six-bath, eastside apartment in New York, which is paid for, of course by the nice men who either already know us well or really want to know us better. I want to tell you all about our histories and our lives together and I will. There's so much to tell that I'm going to split it into five stories. The first four will be about each girl's history and how she became a world-class pantyboy. The fifth will be about our wonderful life together today. Since I'm the most articulate (as well as the prettiest and sexiest), the girls elected me to tell everyone's story. Each one is really different and really <blush> exciting, starting with this interesting story about Amy. My story is the most interesting, so I'm saving it for last.

 

AMY'S STORY

Chapter 1 – Ralph Takes Employment

We always kid Amy about looking the most boyish of the four of us, with her short, brown hair and all. But make no mistake. She's more feminine than 99.9% of the women in the world. And men respond to it.

They also like her British accent, which is only natural since she grew up in England. Amy started life in rural Yorkshire as the son (ick!) of a loving couple who were "in service." In England, that means you're like a butler or maid or something. Amy, who was then known as Ralph (double-ick!!) grew up on a very large estate, except that his (she was a he then) father was the butler and his mother was the housekeeper. So Ralph's parents were really the top servants on a staff of 20.

The manor and a life of service were all Ralph knew. He had never really been off the estate, except for trips to the village and the two-week vacation the family took every year to the English seacoast. His mother and father were very loving and good. They wanted him to have a much better life than they did, and told him so frequently. Which is why Ralph was startled when, two weeks before his 18^th birthday, his mother and father took him on a 100-mile road trip to a job interview at the Spunkley estate. All along, Ralph had thought that he was going to go to university on scholarship and here his Mum and Dad were trying to fix him up with a job he didn't want and would get him nowhere. Something about being "personal assistant" to Lord Eric Shunn, seventh earl of Spunkley. When Ralph questioned his parents, they just said that it seemed to be a job he was particularly suited to.

Ralph resolved not to shine in the interview with his Lordship, so that maybe the whole thing would be forgotten. And he would go on to better things.

Mum and Dad were interviewed by his Lordship first, for about an hour, while Ralph cooled his heels in an anteroom. He remembered thinking that the Spunkley estate was considerably larger than his lifelong home. He also noticed the other servants giving him curious looks as he waited. Cheeky buggers. Why didn't they mind their own business?

Eventually, Mum and Dad emerged and they seemed quite pleased. That wasn't a good sign, Ralph thought.

"Go ahead, Ralph," Mum said. "His Lordship is eager to meet you."

Why would someone as rich as this be eager to meet me, Ralph thought. But he went into the room and closed the door.

Spunkley was standing behind his desk, smiling broadly. He was a very handsome man – blond, fit, tall and in his late 40s. There was no Lady Spunkley and he was well known as a very eligible bachelor. He came from behind the desk and moved toward Ralph to greet him. How odd, Ralph thought.

Ralph's training and discipline kicked in and he was respectful, yet intelligent and self-assured with Spunkley, who smiled broadly during the interview. Mostly it was a pleasant chat, with no mention of duties, but the mention of an extremely generous salary. Ralph was excited at the prospect of making so much money at such a young age. His instincts told him something was amiss, especially in the way Spunkley looked at him, but he was too flattered to listen to his inner voice.

After only 30 minutes, it was decided. Ralph would begin a week after his 18^th birthday. If Ralph did his job well, he would attend university on Spunkley's money.

Wow!

Perhaps Ralph should have examined that gift horse's dentistry a bit more closely, but then he would have never become the Amy that Judy, Sandy, millions of men and I adore.

Three weeks later, Ralph tearfully left his parents and the only home he had ever known. But he was filled with joyous anticipation about his future, which was the right feeling for the wrong reason.

 

Chapter Two – A Shocking Introduction

Ralph arrived at Spunkley Manor late that afternoon and was greeted by Withers, the butler, who was quite friendly and helpful, even taking Ralph to Lord Spunkley for a face-to-face welcome. Ralph thought to himself that the lord of this manor was a lot more "hands-on" than the one where he grew up.

Leaving his Lordship, Withers and Ralph went to the young man's room, where he deposited his things prior to a tour of the estate. Ralph noted that he was to be housed with two roommates, judging from the three comfortable double beds in the large room, but he didn't have time to study things very closely. Withers showed Ralph around, introducing him to staff, who, Ralph thought, gave him some strange looks. But the strangest incident was when he and Withers arrived at the manor's swimming pool. There were two young men, about a year older than Ralph, named Randall and Charles, who were in the skimpiest of bathing suits. (They almost looked like bikini bottoms!) They were sunning themselves and acting largely indolent until Withers introduced Ralph to them as their roommate and "fellow personal assistant to his Lordship."

Ralph was struck by their confident manner and <gulp> their good looks. They were definitely boys (Ralph could see a tiny, but visible lump in both of their crotches), but they were sort of pretty. They weren't wearing make-up or anything, but they seemed pretty girlish just as they were. They greeted Ralph warmly, then went back to lolling in the sun, as Withers continued the tour.

Despite Ralph's polite, but persistent questioning, Withers was vague as to the nature of Ralph's duties at Spunkley Manor.

By the time the tour ended, Withers took Ralph to staff dinner, where the platoon of maids, cooks, footmen, gardeners and chauffeurs gathered three times a day for excellent food and better gossip. Ralph noticed a bit of snickering when he took his place far down the long table, especially when he asked why Randall and Charles weren't at dinner.

"They're personally assisting his Lordship," said Mindy, a fortyish, downstairs maid, and everyone snickered.

Ralph was a bit dense at that point in his life, but he suspected something wasn't quite right.

After dinner, Ralph and Withers filled out Ralph's employment papers. Then Withers asked Ralph to perform his first official duty. His Lordship was dining in his rooms that evening. Would Ralph deliver his dinner?

Ralph was happy to be useful, so he eagerly pushed the covered, laden cart through the halls to Spunkley's spacious living quarters. Ralph paused at the door, checked his appearance, and knocked twice, sharply.

A husky voice from behind the door said, "Come in!"

Ralph turned the knob opened the door on a crack, turned to put his back to the door, grabbed the cart and pushed the door with his back. He entered the room and beheld the sight that changed his life forever.

Amy says today that she will never forget what she saw if she lives to be a million. Every time she tells me about it I get hot and bothered and usually drench my panties.

Ralph looked at Spunkley's king-size bed and saw three people. Spunkley, lying on his back at the center of the tableau, was naked. His huge cock was standing rigidly erect and throbbing with the force of a quart of blood pumping through it every few seconds.

To his right, Randall, one of the pretty boys at the pool, was kissing Spunkley hungrily, their tongues dancing. Randall was naked from the waist up, and Ralph, through his shock, noted that Randall's nipples were wet and erect. Randall's cock was also painfully stiff, though quite small in comparison to his Lordship's monster, and Randall was rubbing his peeny slowly against Spunkley's hairy, right thigh as they kissed. Randall's waist was adorned in a lacy, white garter belt, whose straps were attached to a pair of tan, fully-fashioned, seamed stockings with reinforced heel and toe. Oddly, though in bed, Randall was wearing a pair of five-inch-heeled, stiletto, gold sandals. He was wiggling and whimpering as he kissed Spunkley, obviously enjoying himself immensely.

As was Spunkley. Not only was he kissing Randall's perfectly glossed lips, his Lordship had Randall's tiny bottom cupped in his massive right hand. Two of the master's thick fingers had entered Randall's tight, little bottomhole and he was running them slowly in and out to Randall's obvious delight.

Charles, the other little creampuff from the pool, appeared to be enjoying himself as well. He was on the bed, on his knees to Spunkley's left. Like Randall, Charles was naked from the waist up. He was wearing a black-lace garter belt and silky, black, fully-fashioned stockings adorned his lovely legs. His pretty feet were encased in strappy, silver sandals, with a ridiculously high stiletto heel. Like Randall, Charles was gorgeously made up. And, apparently, extremely good at his current task.

Charles was kissing and licking, no, actually feasting on, his master's cock. He was moaning and grunting in the most sissyish manner as he skinned his master's cockhead, then slurped up the considerable goo that leaked from the pouting peehole. Ralph could see that Charles' own "little gentleman," though tiny like Randall's, appeared to be achingly stiff. Charles' delicious bottom, which was clearly visible to Ralph as Charles' head bobbed up and down on Spunkley's rammer, glistened with what appeared to be a liberally applied lubricant.

Several things about the scene struck Ralph.

First, he was astounded at the three's lack of modesty, shame or guilt about doing something many have done, but few have exhibited.

Second, Ralph was surprised that the boys he had met earlier that day could become as intensely beautiful and fully feminine as they had become.

Third, he was amazed that the boys enjoyed what they were doing as much as they obviously did. According to everything Ralph had always been told, it was emasculating and icky and wrong!

Fourth, and probably most importantly, Ralph was stunned by his own arousal. His little doodle was stiff and skinned and his pink parts were rubbing against his underpants for a relief he didn't even know he needed. Until that day, Ralph had never cum.

Ralph was trembling, unsure of what he was to do. Would his Lordship be enraged that Ralph had witnessed this scene of incredible debauchery? Would Ralph be fired and sent home in disgrace?

Not bloody likely.

For the first time, Spunkley appeared to notice Ralph's presence. He broke off his kiss with Randall (though still finger-buggering the lovely boy), and said, "Oh, Ralph. Thanks for bringing that food. Just set it up over at the table and then tidy the room up a bit before you leave, won't you?"

Ralph was trembling too much to answer, but he managed to squeak out a "Yes, sir."

He looked at the carnal scene for a moment more and shuddered when Randall gave Ralph an intensely sultry look that pushed poor Ralph over the edge. Helplessly, Ralph began to cum, filling his underpants with the sticky cream that legions of men would later ache to taste and consume.

Ralph was humiliated beyond belief, though the three continued their pleasure, seemingly oblivious to him.

As he set up the food, which he then saw was for three, he heard ecstatic noises and couldn't help glancing toward their source. Randall was squealing like a girl and cumming all over Spunkley's thigh. "Oh, Daddy!" Randall screamed. "I love you!"

Daddy?

Ralph watched as spurt after spurt of Randall's thick cream drenched the thick hairs of Spunkley's upper leg. Spunkley's tongue silenced Randall and they kissed and cooed sweetly until Spunkley began to grunt with what appeared to be an impending orgasm caused by Charles' careful attentions to his cock.

Spunkley continued to kiss and fingerfuck Randall and the boy was erect and throbbing again. Then his Lordship moaned manfully and began to pump hot, man nectar into Charles' pretty mouth. Charles appeared to be delighted with the flood of emasculating goo that his master was jetting down his throat and over his sweet lips and chin. He sucked and licked and swallowed as Spunkley arched his back and gave Charles a six-course protein dinner. Charles carefully licked his master clean, then smiled and slid up to give Spunkley a cummy kiss.

"Did you like that, Daddy?" Charles asked Spunkley.

"Oh, yes, Darling," his Lordship answered. "It was superb."

Not missing a beat, Randall slid down Spunkley's right side and engulfed the master's cock in his wet mouth. The sleeping giant was limp and drooling, but it was clear that Randall intended to amend that condition.

Ralph was "tidying up" the room as directed, but he also watched Charles straddle his Lordship's shoulders and present his stiff little tickler to the master's mouth for attention. Spunkley eagerly formed his lips around the girly-boy's doodle and Charles squealed with delight. Spunkley held Charles hips and licked and sucked the little angel ardently and expertly until the boy was screaming that he was "going to cum for Daddy."

That, as well as Randall's delicious attentions, stiffened Spunkley to a full stand once again. Randall took that as a sign he should stop sucking, since that stiffie was apparently earmarked for a specific purpose. Randall gently cuddled his master's balls, just pleasingly enough to keep him rampant without making him cum.

Charles, meanwhile, had passed the point of no return and began to squeal out his love for "Daddy" as he filled the seventh Earl of Spunkley's mouth with a large portion of his girlish juices. "Daddy" enjoyed it completely.

A limp Charles withdrew from Spunkley's mouth and dismounted from his shoulders. He kissed his older lover with passion, then did something Ralph would have thought impossible. Still facing Spunkley, Charles straddled the master's hips, reached behind him to grasp Spunkley's big, stiff monster, then, slowly, in obvious ecstasy, inserted a two-inch-diameter cock into a one-half-inch diameter bottomhole. Ralph's eyes filled with wonder and, once again, he came hard into his already drenched underpants. No one on the bed even noticed.

Astonishingly, Charles was sitting on the entirety of Spunkley's prick, to Spunkley's very hairs. and they both appeared delighted. Randall, who had done the work of raising his Lordship's flag, was destined for another reward. He moved up, straddling Spunkley's shoulders while facing his fellow pantyboy. Then he lowered his bottom onto his Lordship's eager mouth.

His Lordship was apparently an accomplished pootie eater, because Randall appeared to be at the gates of heaven. Charles was easing himself up and down on the master's thick prick, gasping and panting in clear enjoyment. The two boys, who were facing each other, began to embrace, then kiss passionately as they rode their manly lover's cock and mouth. Soon, Charles' teeny weenie was spurting all over Randall and Randall's little stiffie was drenching Charles.

That was when Ralph gathered himself and left, closing the door behind him.

He was trembling as he stumbled back to his room. A room he would be sharing with Randall and Charles, the "personal assistants."

Then, thinking a bit more clearly than he had been when his cock was stiff, Ralph remembered something horrible. He was a "personal assistant" as well.

A gallon of fear adrenalin pumped into Ralph. Would he be expected to……… Could he………..

A sticky situation indeed.

Ralph was shaking hard when he made his way to the telephone that servants were to use. His Dad would know what to do. Dad always did.

Trembling, Ralph dialed up and secured a connection with his Dad. At first, the little doll was afraid to tell his father what had happened, and he was sobbing when he finally was able to describe, in broad terms, what the happy trio had been doing. He paused, waiting for Dad's response. It was not what he expected, but it was what he needed.

"Ralph," Dad said, "Mother and I have known for years the way your nature would guide you, even if you didn't realize it yourself. Tell me, my sweet, wonderful boy, were you disgusted by what you saw or excited?"

This wasn't going the way Ralph anticipated. Dad wasn't being sympathetic. But as always, Dad was making him think. "Excited, Dad," he admitted to his father and himself for the first time. Dad couldn't see it, but Ralph blushed.

"I thought so. Listen, Ralph. Do you know that you're the first young man over the age of 11 in our household who didn't have sex with Automatic Annie, the upstairs maid?"

Ralph didn't know that. If it were true, what did it mean?

"Did you ever notice how men, married, straight men, look at you sometimes, Ralph?"

"Well, yeah. Sort of. Sometimes they look at me the same way they look at girls. But I'm not a girl."

"That's right, Ralph. You're not. You're better than a girl and men sense it. When you get some training and experience, you'll be a very sought-after person. Rich. Successful. Loved. With men lusting after you, just as Spunkley lusts after those two pantyboys of his. That's what you were meant to be, Ralph. A pantyboy."

Ralph felt as if he had been kicked in the stomach. He was confused and disoriented. But a strong inner voice told him that Dad was right.

Dad continued. "Do only what you know you want to and call me anytime. Mum and I will be visiting you on Wednesday a fortnight. If you want to come home, you can do that then. OK?"

Oddly, Ralph felt much better. Scared and apprehensive, but no longer panicked.

He rang off with Dad and returned to his room. It didn't look like a room for people like Randall and Charles to pretty up. And where were their clothes?

A single door at the far end of the room must be a closet, Ralph thought. He opened it and discovered that it led to another, even larger room. There were three vanity tables, lavishly stocked with cosmetics, three huge dressers filled with <gasp> intimate apparel and six (!) large, walk-in closets. Three were filled with feminine clothing, three with racks of shoes.

Would Ralph be expected to……..?

Which things, if any, were his, he wondered. He saw that two of the areas looked lived-in, the other looked newly set up. His answer. Ralph opened one of "his" dresser drawers and saw half a dozen, lovely, neatly folded nighties. He held up the pink one on top and examined it. It was very brief. His cock, which was nested in a large amount of dried cum, began to rise.

"You'll look lovely in that, Darling," a soft, feminine voice behind Ralph said.

Ralph's heart nearly stopped. He dropped the nightie, turned and said, "I wasn't….."

Charles smiled. He was quite a mess. His hair was askew and lipstick smeared. He smelled like a men's room at an adult movie theater. He had a long, black peignoir over the black, stockings and silver sandals Ralph had last seen him in. But he looked like the essence of sex.

"It's OK, Sweetie," Charles said. "Welcome to England's panty-boy ground zero,"

More denials from Ralph. "But I'm not…."

Charles hugged Ralph. "It's OK. I said I wasn't either. But I knew I was. And it's heavenly. Here, sit down. Would you like some tea or something?"

Ralph didn't know what to do or say. But he sat in chair facing Charles. "No tea, thanks, Charles."

Charles' laugh was sweet and tinkling. "No one calls me Charles any more, except Withers. I don't look like a Charles, do I?"

Ralph shook his head. He or she was a very feminine person all right.

Charles said, "Thank you. My name is Caroline and always will be. And Randall is Rose. Do you have a girlie name?"

Ralph's expression turned to horror. He couldn't be called by a girl's name. That would be totally emasculating!

Caroline understood perfectly. "We'll talk about it when you're ready. Did the sight of us taking pleasure surprise you?"

Ralph blushed. "Yes,"

"And it excited you too, my little doll. I know. His Lordship pulled the same trick on me 18 months ago with Jennifer and Fiona. It was different for me, though. It was the realization of a life-long dream. I've always been a sissy and always known it. Rose was more like you. A lot more."

That was a comfort to Ralph. "Where is Rose?" he asked.

"Spending the night with Daddy. And I do mean 'spending.' When I left, Daddy had her on her back with her legs over his shoulders. He was pushing his huge meat in and out of her and she was screaming with pleasure and cumming all over her tummy. His Lordship never stays the night with two of us nancyboys. He has a strict moral code. Different than most, but strict."

Ralph shuddered to think that his Lordship might someday want Ralph on his back as the big, handsome man covered Ralph with his huge body and stuck his business into the girlieboy's "pussy." Ohhhh.

"Who are Jennifer and Fiona?" Ralph asked.

"Two of our predecessors here. Jennifer left a year and a half ago when Rose arrived and Fiona left last month. Daddy has two to four of us here at any time, usually for 18-24 months. He's been doing that since his father died and he became the earl – 20 years ago. So you'll be his 34^th or 35^th personal assistant – something like that."

"Where did Jennifer and Fiona go?"

"Jennifer's at Cambridge on his Lordship's ticket and she's the most sought-after girl in a 25-mile radius. Fiona fell in love with the eldest son of one of his Lordship's peers (who shares his "tastes"). They were married last Saturday and Daddy gave the bride away. He gave them a 20,000-pound wedding present, along with the 50,000-pound-for-life annual 'pension' he pays all of us 'girls' when we leave. He's quite rich and quite hungry for the love only we can give him."

Ralph's head was reeling. No wonder his Dad had wanted him to take advantage of the opportunity. The benefits were incredible.

"If you don't mind my saying so, Sweetie," Caroline said, "you stink. You soaked your underpants with sissy cream in the bedroom and you're still wearing them. I need a shower too, as you can see. How about we get cleaned up and I'll find something for you to wear? Separate showers. No funny business."

How could Ralph pass that up?

The personal assistants' bathroom had three double showers and a triple-wide sunken tub. Caroline stripped herself to the buff, then got in her shower and began to wash. Ralph stripped and cautiously entered his shower. There was no need to worry. The water was warm and Caroline stayed to herself.

When Ralph left the shower and began to dry off, Caroline was already gone. He could hear her humming happily in the bedroom.

Ralph warily entered the bedroom with a towel around his waist. Caroline was stark naked except for a pair of fluffy, pink stiletto mules. She was leaning into Ralph's dresser looking for clothes for him and Ralph could see her pinkish-brown bottomhole staring directly at him. Her legs were parted slightly and he could see her little pink bag hanging down and wiggling prettily between her legs as she dug for what she wanted in his drawers. Triumphantly, the sissy angel proclaimed a "Hah!" the stood up and faced Ralph.

"Oh drop that towel, Honey. We're roommates and have no modesty with each other."

Not wishing to be thought a nerd, Ralph complied. He blushed, however, because the sight of Caroline's lovely hindquarters had produced further stiff evidence of his arousal in her presence. Caroline, who had seen an erection or two in her time, ignored it. She was on a mission.

"This will do, Sweetie," Caroline said. "You'll look lovely and feel warm and feminine as you sleep."

Thank goodness it was summertime, Ralph thought, as he observed the skimpy garment. It was a tiny, pink, see-through nightie that Ralph didn't think would even cover his privates. Could he wear something like that? His boy things had disappeared, so he didn't seem to have many options. Naked was not a choice he wanted to make at this strange manor.

But naked it was for the moment, because Caroline grabbed him by the wrist and escorted him to what would be his vanity table, plopping the bewildered boy onto the stool, facing the mirror.

"You're a little boyish, but that tends to make Daddy's dick even harder," Caroline said as she rifled through the cosmetics to find what she wanted. "Let's just try a little foundation, blush and lipstick. We'll work on the eyes tomorrow."

Poor Ralph groaned softly. Things were going too fast. Did he really want this?

Those kinds of thoughts faded slowly as he watched magic unfold in the mirror. Caroline was nattering about this technique and that shade, but all Ralph could see was his feminine side emerge before his fascinated eyes. He was already looking like a reasonably pretty girl. And his prick was in major distress as a result.

Caroline stepped back to admire her work. "I see by the dark red color in your clittyhead and the naughty little twitches that you like what you see, Honey."

Ralph blushed. He was falling in love with his reflection. "It's….. very nice. Thank you, Caroline."

Caroline said, "I knew you'd like it. But wait. There's more."

Caroline took out two pink, very sheer, fully-fashioned stockings and showed Ralph how to roll them up, then on. Ralph was nearly hairless, so he felt the full effect of the first silky delight to ever embrace his legs. He made it over the knee of the first leg before he was whimpering and spraying his cum in large jets. If he hadn't been sitting, he would have collapsed.

"It's fantastic, isn't it?" Caroline asked as she tissued up sweet Ralph's gooey mess. "When I'm putting on my frillies, I have to think of algebra or something or I'm losing a big, creamy load that should be going down the throat of our handsome Daddy. Or Rose. Or Edward, the gardener's assistant. Or maybe you."

That made Ralph tremble even more. Somehow he managed to get the other stocking and a garter belt on without another cummy mishap. Then he stood and admired his new femininity in the mirror as a still-naked Caroline slipped his nightie over his head.

Ohhhh. It was almost like wearing nothing. But much sexier. He felt the gossamer embrace of the feminine, sheer material. His "goodies" were plainly visible under the nightie's too-short skirts. Caroline put a pink barrette at both of Ralph's temples and said, "Daddy's going to eat you up. You're a doll."

Fear and sexual heat slammed into poor Ralph. Would "Daddy" think he was pretty? Suddenly, Ralph began to consider in the tiniest way what it would be like to be in Spunkley's bed. Possessed by him, yet commanding Spunkley too.

While Ralph was falling in love with his reflection, Caroline had slipped into an outfit exactly like his, except black. She fiddled with her hair, did a light makeup bit and, when Ralph noticed her, he almost made another of those wonderful explosions. She was red hot.

Poor Ralph was stiff and aching all over again as Caroline said, "Let's get in bed, Sweetie. Or should I call you 'Amy?' Daddy told Rose and me that's the name he picked out for you. Do you like it?"

Ralph felt another stab of fear as he considered what it would be like to be "Amy." Maybe he could just play along a bit. Get the benefits for life even if it meant doing a few things he wasn't fond of. It would mean getting in bed with the master. Maybe even doing "ickies" with him. Could he do that? Was there a reason he hadn't wanted to score with Automatic Annie? Was there a reason why he liked what he saw and was so excited to be dressed as a pretty boy?

Ralph knew the bed on the left was supposed to be his, but Caroline was in it. Lying on her back. In that tiny, black nightie. With her privates showing. Her stiff privates, to be exact. And a teeny, dangly set of the cutest little testicles.

Maybe Ralph was supposed to sleep in another bed. A part of him hoped not. That part was very happy when Caroline patted the empty side of the bed and said, "Come join me, Amy. I'll just milk you and then we can go to sleep. No more funny business."

Ralph wasn't sure he knew what a milking was, but Caroline explained. "To be a true pantyboy, you have to drain out all the boy's cream from your little bag several times a day. Wearing all the pretty things makes us dizzy with feminine excitement, which makes our clitties red, stiff and sore. We need to be milked. It's best when a man does it, but another pretty boy can do it too. I can see that you need it very badly."

It was true. Despite all his three cummy explosions in the past two hours, he was very much in need of a milking. It was the clothes. The thought of his own beauty. The thought of being sexually desired and <gasp> consumed by a man. But mostly, the proximity to Caroline, who dripped with raw sexuality.

Sensing that he had stepped on a path he would never want to meander from, Ralph got into bed with Caroline and lay on his back. Without being asked, he lifted his nightie above his belly button, exposing himself completely to Caroline's lust.

Ralph blushed and trembled. And wondered why she didn't get on with things.

"You're so pretty and sweet that I'm savoring the moment," Caroline said. Then she rested her warm, girlish hand on Ralph's cock and balls.

Ralph flinched. No one had ever touched him "down there" with a sexual intention. Already he knew that it was going to be better than it would have been with Automatic Annie.

Ralph's peener was stiff and achy – a nice achy – as Caroline caressed it with her soft hand. Lightly, she scratched the small shaft with her manicured fingernails. They were red and perfectly shaped. Ralph mused about why he hadn't noticed that when he had met Caroline only hours before.

She said, "You're very wet, Amy. Lots of delicious goo. Do I excite you?"

Ralph nodded an embarrassed, randy "Yes."

"Look at the way your thick, brown foreskin runs up and down your pretty pink head when I skin it like this. Oh! You're so sensitive there aren't you? Lord Spunkley won't be able to get enough of you. Rose and I will have to retire to an old sissies' home. Or maybe we'll find other men who want us? Amy, Honey?"

Poor Ralph spoke through a fog of hot arousal, "Unnnh?"

Caroline pulled his foreskin all the way back, then released it. "It's better with kissing. Would you like to kiss?"
Ralph wanted to kiss. Desperately. Caroline was so beautiful and so feminine. It wouldn't be gay to kiss someone like her, would it?

Ralph was so overcome with emotion and excitement that he had become non-verbal. He nodded, then closed his eyes (as he heard you were supposed to), then puckered his lips for the expected kiss.

When it didn't arrive immediately, Ralph opened his eyes. Caroline was leaning over to the nightstand, fishing around for something. She found what she wanted and brought it into Ralph's view. A tube of lubricant.

Smiling sweetly (darn, she was pretty, Ralph thought) Caroline squeezed a generous portion of the slick lotion on her right hand, then along the length of Ralph's cocklet and all over his pretty ball bag.

The feelings were amazing. Caroline's hand was warm and very skilled at manual love. But then she did the oddest thing! Caroline abandoned Ralph's pricklet, re-lubed her hand, lifted her black babydoll's flouncy skirts, and rubbed slick pleasure all over her own stiff little treasures.

Ralph watched with wonder as Caroline aroused her own sissy privates, gasping and panting as she stated deeply into Ralph's eyes. Should he be doing something?

Apparently not. Caroline grunted out a request that Ralph lie on his left side. He complied. Caroline lay on her right side, and then, slowly and sensuously, touched the peehole of her peener against Ralph's teeny mushroom cap.

Ralph shuddered with pleasure.

Caroline rubbed their cockheads together. A moan escaped Ralph's mouth.

Then things got better.

Caroline wrapped her warm, gentle hand around both of their cocks and began to masturbate both Ralph and her simultaneously. Then she dove into Ralph's mouth for a scorching, lipsticked-mouth-to-lipsticked mouth kiss,

If Ralph were ever going to faint, that would have been the moment.

His first kiss took place simultaneously with hundreds of his penile nerve endings being stimulated to their full potential. "Arrow point" rubbing "arrow point" in hot, slick friction. Caroline's free hand cupping Ralph's plump, feminine bottom. A girlish tongue licking his own. Whimpers of pleasure and surrender coming from both girly boys as they gave themselves over to bodily pleasure.

Ralph had a flash of imagination where he saw himself as a girl named Amy. The girl everyone, including his parents seemed to want him to be. And it was that vision, of a girlish life with all its joys, which pushed him over the cummy edge. Ralph, let's call her Amy from here on, cried out, ejaculating much of her masculinity as she jettisoned her hot cream.

Caroline sensed Amy's awakening. The globs of sweet, sissy juices bathing Caroline's privates triggered her own pantyboy explosion. Caroline and Amy shook with lust, pumped out their love fluids until both were spent, kissed sweetly, and, worn out, fell asleep in each other's arms.

Chapter Three – Amy Encounters her Future.

Amy was so tired from the exhausting day she had experienced, that she slept as if anesthetized until first light when she began to dream. She was a very attractive woman of about 25. Her four-star, womanly body was encased in a red business suit, with white blouse and very short miniskirt. Her hair was long and flouncy. She was walking briskly and expertly down a busy city street, and wearing impossibly high, stiletto-heeled, mule sandals. Her stockings were tan and seamed, with reinforced heel and toe and she had a very large audience of eager men along both sides of her path. She was ignoring them, of course, except for the really cute ones.

In her dream, she felt really good about being a girl. Really good. Physically good. Almost as if….

Amy awakened with a start. The room was filled with bright sunshine. She was on her back and her pretty nightie was up to her nipples. Where was Caroline?

Amy looked down. She saw the top of Caroline's head. Something wonderful was happening. Caroline's wet mouth had engulfed Amy's cock! Her tongue was lavishly licking Amy's velvet helmet.

The pleasure!!!!

Amy saw red. Then purple. She arched her back in sexual agony, then helplessly screamed as she gave Caroline a hot, six-course, protein breakfast.

Maybe things wouldn't be so bad at Spunkley Manor.

Caroline looked up at Amy and smiled. Her face had taken a cummy blast, but she looked gorgeous. Amy held her arms open, inviting Caroline. Caroline covered Amy with her body, then gave her a long, wet, cummy, tonguey kiss.

Amy was gasping for air and her little sticker was stiff all over again. Eighteen is a wonderful age.

She was considering strongly whether she should satisfy Amy in like manner, when the door to the adjoining room opened and Rose walked in.

Remember Rose? The adjacent room to the pantyboys' bedroom led, directly and conveniently, to "Daddy's" room.

Rose's first reaction to what she saw was a loud "Hah!" Then she said, "I see you two are getting acquainted. That's wonderful. I would love to join you, but after a night with Daddy, I'm fucked out."

To Amy's eyes, that appeared to be true.

Rose's lipstick was smeared and her face was covered with a large, recent portion of semen. Her nightie was in her hand and her bottomhole was slightly open. She was drooling cum down both thighs. She looked as if she had been run over by a love truck. Yet she was smiling. Delighted almost.

"How was your night, Rose?" a giggling Caroline asked.

"Wonderful! I loved every exhausting moment of it. He's an amazing lover. Everything a girl needs. And the constitution of an ox. We got about three hours sleep total, but he's on his way for a morning ride, followed by a pretty full workday on estate matters. Then he says he'd like to spend some time, maybe the night, with Amy."

A cold shudder ran down Amy's back. She could let him kiss her and maybe fondle her a little. That seemed like such a wonderful prospect. He was so handsome and manly and she was so new at femininity and needy for a man's love.

And maybe their mouths could get involved. But he would kill her if he tried to put his "business" in her, wouldn't he?

Though Caroline and Rose seemed to be doing quite well under the master's attentions. Quite well.

Caroline said, "If Amy keeps Daddy happy tonight, I'm bringing Edward the assistant gardener to my room for the night. He's so sweet and he loves me so. Daddy isn't jealous, Amy. If he hasn't called for us, we're free to have our fun with anyone."

"That's right, Amy," Rose agreed. "If you're going to be satisfying Daddy's 'disgusting needs' <giggle> tonight, I think I'll spend the night in the village with Alan, that nice young man who asked me out last week when Caroline and I went for tea at his Mum's hotel."

That made Amy even more frightened. Staying all night with Daddy, and all that involved, seemed to be a done deal as far as Rose and Caroline were concerned. But if the idea concerned her so much, why was her popsy all stiff again?

"We can't dawdle, Amy." Rose said. "Caroline and I have much to do for you and much to teach you before your 'date' tonight. Here's a robe. Put it on and go bring us all back breakfast while we get things organized."

Amy complied. Things were moving very rapidly.

She left the room and walked quickly toward the kitchen. It wouldn't hurt to just try things out. See if she liked them. Mum and Dad would be by in a fortnight and she could leave if she wanted.

She was so self-absorbed that she forgot that she was en femme and out among the household as such for the first time. Fortunately, she didn't run into anyone except James, the butler's assistant.

They had met briefly at dinner the previous evening, but things were different on the second encounter. First, Amy noticed that James was about a year older than she and quite cute. Second, James appeared to be quite smitten by the sight of Amy. So smitten, he was falling all over himself to help her get what she wanted in the way of breakfast. He even carried it for her to the "personal assistants' room" and set it up for her.

That kind of attention and sense of power were new for Amy. And she liked it.

So much so that Amy gave James a little kiss on the cheek to thank him, an action that shocked them both and gave poor James an obvious, painful woodie. There would be no relief from a pantyboy that day for James, however. The three lovelies were on a mission. Breakfast, then getting Amy as "up-to-speed" as possible for her first "date" with a man.

It was a whirlwind day of manicures, pedicures, shaving, bathing, make-up experimentation, fashion instruction, hair styling, lessons in carriage and feminine manner, and frequent milkings-all-around to relieve the inevitable tensions. It was too much information, but Amy retained enough of it to make Rose and Caroline whistle when Amy stood before them in white lingerie and nightwear for her dinner and after-dinner activities with the world's finest connoisseur of sissy boys.

She was blushing from all their praise as she tottered around in her two-inch-stiletto mules. Much of the blush was from the thought if surrendering herself to a man for the first time. Being possessed and submissive. Giving herself to him. <Shudder> It sounded way better to Amy than that missed opportunity with Automatic Annie.

Part of Amy said, "I'm just looking. Two-week test drive. Returnable merchandise."

The other part said, "I'm finally who I want to be, but never admitted it to myself."

At 6:30 p.m., Amy kissed Rose and Caroline farewell, thanked them for their help, gathered her courage, and passed through the "closet room" to the door of Lord Spunkley's bedroom suite.

Amy took a deep breath. She balanced herself carefully in the unfamiliar heels. Her garter straps tugged gently at her stockings. Earlier, the poor little creampuff had almost lost a big, sticky load just trying to look at her seams in the mirror to ensure they were straight. When she had looked at her reflection, she saw her perfect, plump bottom – even the <blush> wrinkled hole from which Caroline and Rose had carefully removed all hair.

Amy looked at her hot-pink-lacquered toenails through the gauzy screen of her white, reinforced-heel-and-toe stockings. Her little toesies were so cute! Amy's balls felt so good nestled in the prettiest, frilliest white panties ever made. The silky material felt like soft fingertips rubbing the tender flesh. It was also rubbing against her exposed pink mushroom, which was skinned, wet and aching for love. At that moment, her biggest fear was that she would cum when his Lordship said hello. He was so strong and powerful. And if any of the stories that Rose and Caroline had been telling Amy about his abilities as a lover were true…………..

Another deep breath brought the scent of her Passion perfume to her pretty nostrils.

Amy knocked.

Several steps sounded, then the door opened.

Ohh. He was beautiful. Wearing a wildly expensive dinner jacket and matching accessories. Dazzlingly handsome. Smiling as if he had just seen the two-wheeler under the Christmas tree. And all because of Amy, she thought.

He looked as awed as she felt.

"You are the most beautiful woman it has ever been my pleasure to know," he said, apparently spontaneously.

Amy blushed. She knew she was one of a long line of pantyboys who had given his Lordship comfort. She knew it was probably a line. But she reacted to that statement as women have for millennia.

"Really? Do you think so? Tell me more."

Spunkley did just that. In some detail. As he took her hand and led her to a well-appointed room prepared for an intimate dinner for two. Praising her beauty in ways old and new. And Amy adored it.

Amy glowed with the praise as Spunkley held her chair at the graciously prepared dinner table. They were dining early, as was Spunkley's custom. More time for after-dinner activities.

Spunkley rang a bell and a door opened. James, the butler's assistant who had seemed so interested in Amy earlier that day brought the meal in. Amy gave him a shy smile and he returned it. She was a little embarrassed that someone had seen her dressed for sex with the master. But apparently, that was not an unnatural sight in the Spunkley household.

James departed and they were alone again. Spunkley's conversation relaxed Amy a bit as they ate a light, summer meal of salads. They spoke of their favorite football sides (Man U for Spunkley, Liverpool for Amy), their families and Amy's beauty. Good topics.

After James removed the dishes and served dessert, Spunkley moved the conversation where he wanted it to go.

"You know you don't have any obligation to do anything with me, right Amy?"

Amy shifted uncomfortably in her chair. "Yes, sir," she answered.

Spunkley smiled. "You can call me 'Daddy' if you like, Dear."

Amy wasn't sure about that and said nothing.

"Please don't be uncomfortable. You can say no anytime you want. You can go home anytime you like. I hope you don't, though."

Amy ate her last spoonful of vanilla ice cream. She nodded ambiguously.

"I'm going into the other room and sit in a big easy chair. If you would like to join me, sit on my lap and kiss for a while, I would like that very much. And I think you would too. But it's up to you."

<Gulp>

True to his word, Spunkley rose and left the room. Through the open door, she could see Spunkley remove his dinner jacket, hang it carefully, then undo his bowtie and the top button of his shirt. He sat and waited.

Amy made her decision.

She rose and walked straight through Spunkley's door. She closed the door behind her, then sissied over to a chair directly across from Spunkley. She slowly, teasingly removed her peignoir robe and folded it over the empty chair.

Amy looked at Spunkley across a distance of about ten feet. She peeked shyly at Spunkley through downcast eyes. She was and is such a little flirt.

Spunkley looked at Amy and quivered with lust. She was wearing a white babydoll nightie with thin spaghetti straps traversing her creamy shoulders. The skirts of the babydoll barely touched the top of her lacy white panties. The little lump was throbbing deliciously. Amy's panties had been pulled over her long, thin, garter straps ("For quick removal," Rose had insisted. Her fully-fashioned, seamed stockings began halfway down the softest, milkiest thighs Spunkley had ever seen. Her delicious legs tapered down to a pair of strappy white mules that displayed a set of toes his Lordship ached to suck.

Amy loved seeing his Lordship's lustful stares. She adored the way she seemed to have Spunkley at her complete command, just before she was about to surrender herself to him completely.

With a deep sigh, she wiggled over to Spunkley and placed her soft, warm bottom in his lap.

Amy nestled her head in Spunkley's chest and said, " I want to be with you, Daddy."

Is it hot in here? I'm sorry, folks, but telling you this story of Amy's life has made me, Cheryl, very hot and bothered. The Boston Red Sox are in town to play the Yankees and there's a certain pitcher who shared some quality time with me the last time he was in New York. He said I was the best "catcher" he'd ever had. I think I'll make a little phone call and invite him over for a night he can remember for the rest of his life. Then, if there's anything left of me, I'll continue Amy's story.

Chapter Four – Amy Settles in with "Daddy"

Whew. What a night. It was just my luck that my fast-balling beau had just finished pitching and winning the game when I called. He carries a cell phone all the time that, he says, is only for calls from me, since I'm the only one who has the number. He said it was a good thing I didn't call during the game, because, rather than miss an opportunity to see me, he would have taken my call, right there. During the game. On the mound. On TV and everything. He said that nothing is more important than being with me.

He has exactly the attitude I look for in a man. And a very large cock. And several million dollars. See why I like him? Anyway, he showered in microseconds and broke the land speed record over to our brownstone on 63^rd Street.

I don't know much about baseball except it involves some hard balls and a big, stiff pole. So I know my Red Sox sweetie must be a really good player. My ass is sore and my balls are completely empty, so you know we had a wonderful night. The diamond bracelet he gave me exponentially increased the chances that he'll need that cell phone of his again.

Ouch, he really stretched me back there. And his cum is still oozing out of my pink little bottomhole an hour after he left for the ballpark. Thank goodness for real men! Anyway, back to Amy and Lord Spunkley.

When Amy ran up the white flag, Spunkley took no prisoners.

He kissed the little doll lovingly, but firmly. Her first kiss from a man. No tongue, just lips. She adored it. She felt so deliciously submissive to this alpha male who wanted to possess her. She wanted to be possessed.

Spunkley left her lips and began to kiss her shoulders <gasp> and her white neck <pant>. Where had all the air gone in the room? Her lover's right hand was under her left garter strap, gently stroking the smooth, warm skin of her thigh. His left hand was on her right shoulder.

Amy was enjoying herself tremendously. She hadn't cum, but had been on the verge for the past two hours. Her little nuts were aching, needing release and relief. But Spunkley hadn't touched her privates at all. Her drippy pricklet had made a silver-dollar-sized, sticky stain on her pretty panties.

Spunkley reached over and began to caress the inside of Amy's right thigh. Amy moaned softly. Then the wonderful man slid the right, spaghetti strap of her nightie off her shoulder, exposing the little angel's puffy right nipple to a man's lust for the first time.

Amy was aware of her nakedness. As a boy, the exposure of a nipple was not indecent. But Amy's remaining boyishness was beating a rapid and permanent retreat.

Spunkley gazed at the exposed nipple adoringly, as a man prepared to consume the finest meal of his life. Amy knew a wide river was about to be crossed.

Spunkley moved toward the sissy treasure and brushed his lips against the tip of her nipple. Amy felt a bolt of sexual electricity surge through her chest. The adored nipple erected fiercely. Rather than kiss it again, Spunkley admired it, building Amy's anticipation and putting her on the precipice of orgasm.

Deftly and simultaneously, Spunkley used the pad of his right index finger to touch Amy's pouted peehole through her panties at the same instant he took her nipple between his lips and gave it a delicious tonguing.

Bam!!!!

Amy's stomach clutched. She cried out, "Daddy!!!!!!!!" And she pumped glob after glob of her sticky sissy cream into her first panties. It was a stunner of an orgasm and its force thrilled Amy and elated Spunkley, who knew he had a new personal assistant who would enjoy personally assisting him as much as he liked being personally assisted.

Poor Amy arched her back in sexual agony as her orgasm refused to release her. Spunkley broke off from her nipple and held her little body tenderly as she convulsed with lust. When the little creampuff's tremors eased, he kissed her lips softly. Then again. And again, parting her lips with his tongue.

Amy was willing to let her wonderful "Daddy" do as he wished. She opened her mouth and whimpered submissively, offering her tongue and tonsils for Spunkley's pleasure. Spunkley knew how to make a sissy enjoy a good, thorough kissing. His supple lips knew where to smooch and his tongue knew where to lick. His hands were busy too, caressing Amy's chin, her shoulders and her neck as they slipped into a world in which they were the only inhabitants.

After a good half hour of the most delicious kissing on earth, Spunkley stood, holding Amy in his arms as if she were weightless. Kissing her as he carried her across the room to his huge bed. Amy didn't want the moment to ever end. She felt loved and wanted and needed and above all – randy!!

Spunkley laid the little doll on her back, ensuring that her head was on pillows and she was comfortable. Then he slowly, teasingly undressed. Amy's eyes were wide as she saw his magnificent body revealed just for her (not those little tramps Rose and Caroline) for the first time. She blushed when Spunkley's huge cock sprang from his briefs. It was massive!!! Would she have to………? She shuddered at the thought.

Amy was still in her nightie, garter belt, stockings, heels and cum-soaked-then-dried panties. "Daddy" was completely naked as he bent over his doll, hooked his thumbs in the waistband of her panties at her hips and slid them over her stiffie, down her thighs, past her calves, over her pretty feet and off. Amy blushed fiercely. She was now in bed with a naked man and her privates were completely exposed to his disgusting desires. It was SO exciting!

Spunkley was on Amy's right, lying on his left side as Amy lay on her back. He was in command. He began to kiss her right shoulder as he absently rubbed her exposed stomach with his right hand. With a bravery Amy didn't think she had, she reached over with her right hand and touched his Lordship's cock. She covered the cap with her girlish hand, afraid to look at it or him, but fascinated by what she was doing.

Spunkley moaned softly. "You little angel," he said. "That feels wonderful. I'll get on my back and you can complete your inspection."

Spunkley rolled onto his back and Amy worried that she had begun something she couldn't finish. She wanted to do "things" to her lover's cock, but what things? And could she do them?

Amy knelt on the bed perpendicular to Spunkley's left hip. She sat on her pretty haunches as she considered the raw masculinity before her. He was exquisite. And apparently very uncomfortable.

Amy realized that the poor man had probably not cum since that morning when he had deluged Rose's pretty face with spunk, then sent her back to her room. That was 12 hours ago! And he had been kissing and cuddling with Amy for the past 60 minutes. The poor man needed immediate relief. It was the humanitarian thing to do.

It was no wonder that Spunkley winced when Amy took his heavy ballbag in her girlish hand and hefted it gently. It must have weighed five pounds!! And filled to the brim with scorching, manly juices. The lovely doll took each ball in her sweet hand and felt its weight, rubbing the hairy, wrinkled skin gently as she watched him squirm with need.

This situation had to be resolved quickly, our resolute heroine decided. She carefully dropped the heavy nutbag and marveled at how beautiful it was, covering half of his hairy, right thigh. Then she carefully examined the object that she knew would soon become a continuing the source of great and intense pleasure for her, her newest friend, Spunkley's magnificent cock.

Very large and thick, it appeared hot enough to sustain the power needs of a mid-sized European nation. It was prominently veined on both sides and Amy believed she could actually see the blood pumping through those magnificent ridges on their way to Spunkley's almost-purple cockhead.

The sweet little girl blushed as she ran her right hand lightly along its entire perimeter. It almost scorched the angel's flesh, but that deterred her not. Spunkley gasped as she held his manmeat in both hands and measured it. Amy put her tiny right hand at the monster's base, then placed her left hand above her right. She removed her right hand and placed it on the fat cock above her left hand. The "third hand" only came to the base of Spunkley's cockhead. It was "three hands and a head" tall!!

All that fiddling with Spunkley's considerable assets had him in dire distress. Amy released her new best friend and conducted a visual inspection of the cockhead. Lovely arrowpoint on the underside. Spunkley's iron bar was fully against his stomach, so she couldn't see the topside of the head. What she did see was a considerable leakage from peelips the size of a young fellow's mouth. The pre-cum had formed a lake in Spunkley's belly button.

The poor man needed relief. But just a little more teasing first. Amy kissed Spunkley's "arrowpoint" sweetly with her hot-pink-glossed lips. Then again. Thinking he might cum, she stopped, then lifted his cockhead, saving it from drowning in Lake Navel. Then, like a hungry kitty, she slowly lapped up all the sweet juices from Spunkley's tummy. Mmmmmm.

Now to save the poor man from his torment. Rose had advised capping the mushroom with the mouth and employing a piston motion while sucking, then swallowing the inevitable spermy reward. Caroline said a true cocksucker never "caps," rather the entire process involves tonguey licking, without sucking, and the girl's big reward between the eyes and all over the pretty face.

Amy decided to try a little of each, beginning with some nice licking alllllllll around the oh-so-sensitive, overstimulated, sopping head.

She was so good at doing that that she didn't get the opportunity to try method B. Oh no. His Lordship "voted with his cum" for method A. Lots of cum. With nice, manly grunts and six thick, ropy spurts all over his chest and even on his chin. Amy kept licking the arrowpoint all through the fireworks. It was wonderful to give someone so much pleasure. She was very happy and very proud of herself.

His Lordship was a cummy, trembling mess. But at least as happy as Amy. Like his earlier 35 personal assistants, Amy was going to be an enthusiastic girl. Reveling in the joys of panties and big manly cocks to suck and take "back there."

Had Spunkley been lucky or was there something in every pretty boy just waiting for the right "Daddy," the right frillies and the right instinctive drives?

Let's not hurt our heads by thinking too much, OK? The only thing Amy was thinking about was how Daddy was going to be cleaned up. And if (but more likely how and when) Daddy was going to fuck her.

As it turned out, the answers to both questions were linked.

Daddy's cum was a big one, even by his gooey standards. And he was thrilled at the prospect of the delights presented by the lovely pantyboy kneeling next to him, watching his seismic orgasm with wonder and enchantment. He knew that his actions over the next few moments, overcoming her last set of reservations, would be critical.

An amateur would have taken the angel into his arms, kissing her and thanking her for the treat she had just given him. But Spunkley was a professional Daddy.

"You're a perfect angel, Amy. Made for love. Destined to make men adore you. I love you already," he said.

Amy blushed. This was heady stuff for someone who had led a life of anonymity.

Spunkley pressed his clear advantage. "Sweetheart, please straddle my body, on your knees, across my hips, so I can admire the most beautiful bottom in the world."

No girl could pass up an invitation like that. No sissy, anyway. Amy straddled Spunkley's hips, her perfect, creamy globes facing her ardent suitor.

Spunkley paused a moment to admire the feminine feast before him. Amy's little brown/pink hole had the loveliest wrinkles. Her tiny prick and little "silk purse" of testicles hung and swayed for Spunkley's future, loving amusement.

Many were the time when I felt what Spunkley felt as I bedded delicious, feminine Amy. After too many men to count, she is still sweet, innocent and totally loving. I wish you could meet us all.

Anyway, Spunkley said, "I'm the luckiest Daddy on earth to have you in my bed. You're beautiful and feminine and [yadda, yadda]." He ran off a dialogue about Amy's sexual perfection, all the while using two fingers to scoop up cum from his stomach and slathering it around the sensitive folds of Amy's virgin pussy.

Amy whimpered from the high praise and new, delightful sensations. Then Spunkley entered the pantyboy's pussy with one cummy finger, just to the depth of a nail.

As Spunkley had hoped, Amy squealed. His new girls always did at the pleasant, but unfamiliar feel of a finger in one's most private place. But Amy did something none of her predecessors had done. Her balls seized up and her limp doodle blasted out four thick ropes of hot sissy cream.

She was hotter than even Spunkley had anticipated.

As Amy wiggled in an agony of sexual delight, Spunkley pushed his cummy finger completely into the angel's posterior regions. He moved it in and out, as well as laterally, as Amy's orgasm continued unabated. As she gasped out the last drop of girlish goo, Spunkley inserted a second finger.

And found her prostate.

And massaged it.

Poor Amy. Nothing in her life thus far had prepared her for the intensity of her feelings at that moment. Amy's arms collapsed and her chin rested on the mattress between Spunkley's legs. She shook her bottom, not to discharge Spunkley's magical fingers, but to press for every molecule of them along her tender prostate. Ohh. Poor Amy was in overload. Daddy slipped a third finger in, widening the opening. Testing its limits. Rubbing the "new girl's" secret spot.

Amy couldn't possibly cum again so soon. She had just….ahhhh…..the way he touched her there was…….fantastic. Otherworldly. But her peeny wasn't even stiff and her balls had just been emptied.

No matter. The cum train caught Amy on the tracks and hit her at 100 miles per hour.

She shook and screamed. Then she fainted.

Spunkley was pretty sure that Amy was enjoying herself. As soon as she revived, he was going to fuck her properly. On her back. Like a real sissy. Totally helpless and subject to her man. It was what a pantyboy lived for, though Amy didn't know it yet.

In fact, Amy didn't know much of anything, having collapsed senseless. Spunkley tenderly removed his fingers from her bottom and placed the little creampuff on her back. He considered her pantyboyish beauty as she began to stir. Her eyes opened and she saw Spunkley as the magical being who could take her to places and give her feelings she never knew were possible.

Now at this point, I know what you're thinking, my story-reading friend. It appears that Amy is about to be fucked. I mean, have loving congress with a man. In girlie clothes and girlie make-up. After only like maybe 24 hours after finding out she has a girlie side. Does that seem like a stretch? Yeah, it did to me too. I mean, it took me ages, like over a week, after I was properly stimulated, to reach into who I was and decide that I was a simpering, man-loving, bee-yootiful pantyboy.

Let's just remember, I wasn't there. This whole story is me telling you about that hot, little teaser from what she told me. So take it up with Amy, OK?

Back to the story, where Spunkley was about to take it up her.

As Amy regained her full senses, the considerate pantyboy aficionado was lubing up his fingers with a tube of slippery stuff, then re-entering the suburb of paradise that was (and is) Amy's ass. He was careful to avoid the prostate that time, since he didn't want poor Amy passing out again.

The pretty nancyboy was yet again wondering where such pleasure had been all her life.

Amy was frightened of the huge invader that was as stiff as it had been when she <blush> kissed the juices out of it. But she knew her time had come.

So did Spunkley.

He removed his fingers from their hot sanctuary, kissed Amy's hungry lips, and whispered to Amy. "I'm going to make love to you now, Darling. I'm going to have you as you are now – on your back. I'm going to mount you, put my cock at the entrance to your pussy, then slowly push it into you. You'll be screaming with pleasure and cumming all over yourself. You'll experience more pleasure than you ever thought possible. And, since I had you first, you'll be mine forever. You'll have other men – lots of them, I'm sure – but in a way, you'll always be mine."

Amy was wishing that Daddy would stop talking and start fucking her. "OK, Daddy," she said. "I'm ready for you. I want you very much. Please fuck me, Daddy."

What man could stay limp, hearing that from that lovely doll?

Not Spunkley. He climbed on top of Amy, kissed her deeply, with lots of tongue, and put her calves on his shoulders. She was trembling a little. He liked that. Then he put his red-hot mushroom at the little pantyboy virgin's perfect pussy and pushed the whole head in with one slow, but steady motion.

Amy gasped. She felt as good as anyone who had an apple in her anus could feel. She felt…womanly. Giving herself to a man who was, literally, her lord and master. Amy felt a small pain from the insertion, but her bottom was made for a man's love.

She opened her eyes and looked up at her lover. She reveled in the feelings of complete helplessness and sexual subjugation. It had to be genetic, she thought. She had been made a pantyboy long before Spunkley dressed her in stockings and put his cock in her bottom.

"Daddy" smiled slightly at his newest love, but the strain of responsibility for the sexual agenda showed on his face. Still, Amy thought, he was so handsome.

"Are you OK, my Love?" he grunted out considerately.

"Oh, yes, Daddy. Your big thingee feels so good in my girlish place. You can put more in if you want," she said.

Is it any wonder why men prefer pantyboys?

Slowly, over three minutes, and with intense pleasure the mutual result, Spunkley pushed his whole weapon into its proper receptacle. Amy squeaked several times during the test of her bottom's elasticity, and a thin sheen of perspiration appeared on her forehead. But she wrapped her arms around Daddy and took everything he had to give her. To the hairs.

Thank goodness, she thought. If he had been born with one more inch of manliness, Amy would have been buried in the estate cemetery – in two equal-sized coffins.

It was uncomfortable. And then it was wonderful. Daddy paused to let his new girl get used to the welcome intruder. Then they began to fuck in earnest. Enthusiastically. With lots of gasps, moans, pants, squeals, whimpers and "Oh, Daddys."

Daddy's balls slammed into Amy's bottom cheeks with every forward thrust. Her own little, wrinkled purse began to tingle as if something messy and heavenly was about to happen yet again. Could she cum again?

Oh yes.

She felt the first warning pinch and opened her mouth to tell Daddy that his cock rubbing on her prostate was making her crazy with lust. But she could only squeak. Daddy grunted out a response.

"I know, Sweetheart," the understanding man said. "I'm going to cum too."

And then he did. And then she did. Spectacularly.

Amy screamed out as the purest form of exorcism removed the last vestiges of her male persona left the building and her life forever.

 

Chapter Five – Life at Spunkley Manor

The rest of that wonderful night can be best described by the word "moist." The lovers explored and kissed and surrendered and penetrated and accepted and came and came and came.

As with any new girl, as Caroline and Rose had warned Amy, she became Spunkley's favorite. Caroline reported to Amy that Rose was the apple of Daddy's eye when she arrived, but after a while, Daddy treated all his girls pretty equally.

For two weeks, Daddy dined with Amy every night, then fucked her until morning. Somehow, he also managed to fuck Rose and Caroline at least once each day as well.

Daddy had once told Caroline, "If a Daddy can't fuck his sissy at least once a day, he doesn't deserve her."

I told you the man had a strict moral code. And the constitution of a prize bull. On the bull's best day.

Amy adored all the attention – especially all the cock. And she got girlier every day. Her ears were pierced and Daddy got her some one-carat diamond studs for each ear. Like Rose and Caroline, Amy spent a great deal of her time getting and staying beautiful – spas, salons, pampering. Girlie stuff that she loved.

Amy learned to walk in five-inch heels. All she had to do was walk past Daddy in those heels and shake her bottom at him and she would be on her back, stuffed with cock, and cumming like crazy. Life was wonderful.

When Amy's Mum and Dad visited her at Spunkley Manor, as promised, two weeks after she arrived, they were pleased at her girlishness and delighted with her happiness. For once, it paid for a teenager to listen to her parents.

Though Amy as the new girl was Daddy's favorite, Rose and Caroline didn't miss a beat. They didn't resent Amy in the least. The two dolls both had lots of admirers and Daddy, when he didn't require personal assistance, was free of jealousy about his girls and other men.

Amy began to notice that she had lots of admirers too –especially James, the butler's assistant. The first night that Daddy decided to spend with one of his "old favorites" instead of Amy, she resolved to see what James was made of.

The third week passed. Then the fourth. And Daddy was still taking Amy to heaven every night.

Then the time came for the "Quarterly Peerage Council" meeting to be held at Spunkley Manor. It was a gathering of all the earls, marquises and knights of the realm in the vicinity of Spunkley Manor. But Amy had the feeling that the real purpose of the meeting was something else. Especially since Amy's roommates and all the servants called the meeting by a different name – "Spermapalooza."

Yes, dear reader. Every quarter, the local gentry, accompanied by their lovely, pantied, sissycocked, personal assistants, gathered at Daddy's house for fun and celebration.

Ten landed nobles. Eighteen lovely pantyboys. Gallons of sperm.

Amy could hardly wait.

Daddy told her that by mutual agreement, no daddy could "sleep" with his own girl or girls. So he would have to neglect her for four lonely nights. His devotion touched Amy, but she wanted to "shop around" a bit. It's only natural for us pantyboys, Honey.

Amy was intensely curious about Spermapalooza, which was to begin on a Friday and end the following Tuesday. The night before the meeting was to begin, Amy was "assisting" Daddy in his room. She had arrived at six in a lovely, tiny, black nightie and matching peignoir, fully-fashioned black stockings and towering stiletto mule sandals. Daddy had kissed and licked her nipples until the little angel was in a tizzy, then he sucked her popsy until she gave Daddy a big, creamy treat. Then Daddy had her get on all fours. He got behind her and ate her sweet pussy out until she screamed and spurted sticky cream again. Then he slipped his cock (which she had learned to accept with ease and great pleasure) into her and fucked her for a good half hour until they both came hard and collapsed from sexual exhaustion.

Amy adored the after-love sessions with Daddy. That night he sat against the bed's headboard and Amy leaned her back against his chest. Daddy gently kissed her neck and fondled her pricklet, as he praised her beauty, femininity and docility. Amy practically purred with contentment and affection.

Then Spunkley surprised his pantied treasure. "Are you looking forward to this weekend, Baby?" he asked her between hot kisses. "It's OK if you are. I always like it."

Amy blushed and admitted, "Yes, Daddy. I want to see how the other girls look and dress."

Spunkley smiled. "And how their daddies fuck too, right, Sweetheart?"

It was true. Amy had only been a pantyboy for a month, but she was itching to see how other men would express their attraction and affection for her.

Spunkley hugged her sweetly. "It's all right, Darling. It's perfectly natural. You and I won't love each other less. Listen. How would you like a preview of things to come?"

Amy had no idea what he meant and looked at him quizzically.

Spunkley laughed. Then he reached into his nightstand drawer and extracted a small control panel. He pushed a button and the panel on the wall at the foot of the bed slid up, exposing a huge television that Amy never knew existed. Amy didn't think a place like Spunkley Manor needed television when better activities abounded.

"Sir Arthur Creambottom and his two lovely assistants, Susan and Linda have just returned from three months on the continent," he explained. "Rather than go home, then turn around and come back here, they've come directly here, a day early, with my blessing. I think we should look in and see what goes on between another daddy and his sissies, OK?"

Like most of us, Amy's voyeuristic impulses were strong. She nodded enthusiastically, then gave Daddy a big, tonguey kiss. That made her seating a bit less comfortable, since she was now leaning against a big iron pipe, but she rubbed against it with her back and bottom as Daddy turned on the hidden camera.

The view of the guest room revealed two delicious pantyboys deep in a smoldering kiss. Their whole bodies were into it and it was clear that they were having a torrid, sissy love affair. They were dressed only in fully-fashioned stockings, garter belts and bras. The larger and clearly older sissy had considerable cleavage in her bra and a man-sized cock! The smaller, younger sissy's cock was barely two inches and she was flat-chested. Both were beautifully made-up and extremely pretty. Amy's popsy stirred at the sight of their beauty and passion. Where was their daddy?

"Susan is the big-dicked girl," Spunkley said. "I had the pleasure of her company during eight of the last ten gatherings. She's been with Creambottom for almost three years now. She's almost 21, but he shows no inclination to 'retire' her. She's a spectacular lover and the hormones have popped out her boobs, but left her erections and cum production untouched. Now don't be jealous, little puss. You know I love you. I'm just being objective here. Linda is the other girl. She's a delicate little thing and pretty as anything. Like you, she's new and hasn't been to a Spermapalooza yet. It looks as if Susan's fallen head over heels for her. Let's listen."

Amy's cocklet throbbed as Spunkley stroked it and they watched the scene before them. Little Linda pushed Susan off her. Both girls were flushed and their cocks were fire-engine red, though neither had cum.

"We can't cum now, Susan," Linda gasped. "I want you so badly, but you know how his Lordship gets when he knows we've been cumming within four hours of one of his 'conjugal visits.' I don't want one of those spankings again. You know he gives us eight hours every day to love each other into a coma. Isn't that enough for you?"

Linda was smiling when she said it, but it was clear that she was serious. But reason counts for naught when you're in love. Susan was clearly smitten. "I know, Darling," she said. "But I want the other 16 hours every day too. I'm madly in love with you. Kiss me."

Against her judgment, an equally smitten Linda accepted Susan into her arms. The way they writhed and gasped, Amy was convinced that they would cum all over themselves, but just then the door burst open.

Both girls screamed. Amy screamed. Spunkley chuckled. It was a very fierce-looking, naked Sir Arthur Creambottom. "Have you two been cumming without me?"

Even though neither had cum, both pantyboys looked very guilty, though they denied any wrongdoing.

Sir Arthur leered at them. "Well you've certainly gotten yourselves into a state. Come over here and sit one on each knee and maybe I'll forgive you."

Both angels eagerly complied. They kissed Sir Arthur and stroked his big, drippy cock until he was as aroused and ready as they had been.

Amy wiggled as she felt a distant warning in her balls. This was an exciting scene that Daddy had provided for her amusement,

On the screen, Sir Arthur had moved to the bed and was lying on his back, his head propped by two pillows. "Linda, straddle my shoulders and let me lick and suck your little jewel. If you've been lying to me, I'll know from the consistency of your girlish juices."

Little Linda eagerly complied. She was very randy and loved the way the master sucked her little "business." Susan was left alone and miserable until Sir Arthur graciously beckoned for her. "Linda wants that big thing of yours in her bottom," he said. "Go ahead and put it in her as I suck her sweet doodle."

Susan glowed with happiness. Before she began the welcome task, she gratefully kissed Sir Arthur – first on the lips and then on the cock. Then, slowly, she eased her big "nasty" into her Love's tiny, but exquisite bottomhole. Linda squealed with joy as Susan entered her, skewering her "dirty" with one practiced thrust. Soon after, Linda shuddered and released a flood of thick, girlish juices into her Daddy's warm mouth. Sir Arthur grunted and swallowed the sweet nectar from its two-inch source. Susan continued to fuck the sweet girl's bottom with joy and sexual abandon.

Amy moaned and began to spurt her cream all over Spunkley's warm hand. He saw her through her shuddering climax, then turned off the telly, flipped his lover onto her back and fucked her long and properly.

Amy was really looking forward to Spermapalooza.

 

Chapter Six – Spermapalooza

The next morning, Amy awoke full of anticipation for the five days and four nights ahead. And full of Lord Spunkley's big cock. The man couldn't get enough of her. If you met Amy, you would know why. Not only is she sweet and beautiful and warm and sexy and feminine. She's so…….responsive. I mean, the girl loves being fucked and makes no effort to hide it. And her responses make her paramours feel as if they were the world's most skillful lovers

Sometimes I enjoy making love to Amy more than I like "being with" a man. We clean up and girlie up. Stockings. Powder. Perfume. Big heels. Then we lick and kiss and suck until we mess all over each other. Then we do it all over again until we're sweaty and sticky and exhausted. We don't usually put our things into each other. We're used to bigger things back there.

Anyway.

The staff at Spunkley Manor had been working for weeks to get everything ready. Nine guest rooms occupied, each of which needed three or four changes of sheets every day. Three more rooms for pantyboys to enjoy each other when the daddies were busy. Lots of laundry. Lots of fluids. Three big meals for 24 additional people every day. And then they leave. But the smell doesn't. For days. You can smell the cum over in the next county.

If Lord Spunkley wasn't a VERY generous man to the staff, they would leave him. Except for the three or four male staff members who got lucky with the personal assistants now and then. They would never leave. For ANY reason short of death.

Anyway.

Amy finally extricated herself from Daddy that morning and got herself back to the room she shared with Rose and Caroline.

They didn't look much better than Amy did. As they did every morning the three pantyboys discussed the reasons why they were all "walking gingerly."

"How many times last night?" Rose asked Amy.

Amy always blushed when she was asked that question. "Three in my bottom, one in my hand when we were kissing and one on my face."

Rose and Caroline whooped. "I thought Spunkley would slow down a notch before Spermapalooza, as he usually does," Caroline said. "He's still in full-speed-ahead mode. You have the man in quite a state, my dear."

The girls all laughed. Then Rose told her roommates about her evening with Edward, the gardener's 20-year-old and big-cocked assistant. "He's a pussy-eater, girls. And a good one. I'm sopping wet when he puts that big club in me. He's so young and full of cum. He's very good, but I still prefer Daddy. <Giggle> Will we get daddy back when you're through with him? I'm kidding, Amy. I'm going over to his place now to get my daily injection. He'll be in the shower and I'll join him. I hope I can arouse him after you half-killed him again, Amy. Then poor Caroline will get Daddy's dregs."

"Daddy's dregs are better than other men's 'first-of-the-day,' as you well know," Caroline said, and the three creampuffs giggled. "Anyway," she continued, "I'll need some time for my bottom to relax so I'm tight for Daddy. I spent another night with Chief Superintendent Rammer, of the local police. And Rose, I believe you've had the pleasure. You'll agree that Rammer's 'visits' are deep and wide."

Life at Spunkley Manor was very good for Rose, Caroline and Amy.

Caroline showered up to be fresh for her daily renewal of acquaintance with Spunkley. She powdered and perfumed herself and fixed her hair. Then she put on just tiny pink panties, pink, five-inch-stiletto, pink, slingbacks, and some sexy eye shadow. When an exhausted and well-fucked Rose returned to the room, Caroline sissied over to get what she needed from Daddy.

For the first time in weeks, Amy's entire day was free-form. Usually the daytime was free for swimming, primping and fun with her roommates. At six p.m. every day thus far, she had joined Spunkley for dinner, followed by a night of spectacular, frequent and moist lovemaking. That day, the only thing she knew for sure was that she would not be sleeping with Daddy until at least the fifth night. She decided to get dressed and see what was going on.

Amy chose tan, fully-fashioned, seamed stockings, a black, 13-inch miniskirt, white tank top, and shiny, black, five-inch-stiletto, fuck-me pumps. Her make-up technique had improved as had her femmy mannerisms. She wanted to show her sexy self to someone other than Rose, Caroline and Daddy.

Amy took a deep breath and decided to see what was going on during Spermapalooza check-in day.

She didn't get very far. Three rooms east of the girls' room, Amy heard squeals and grunts penetrating a thick, oak door. It was the room that she and Spunkley had observed the Creambottom entourage the previous evening. Were they still fucking in there?

Amy had to know. Against her judgment, but true to her instinct, Amy tried the door handle. Unlocked! She opened the door on a tiny crack and was about to peer inside when she heard a man say, "Have fun, girls. I'll see you at dinner."

Two girlish voices that were obviously in full coitus answered, "Bye, Daddy. We love you." Then they began to grunt and moan again.

Terrified, Amy sissied away and hid herself. She saw Sir Arthur Creambottom, dressed in a very expensive suit, heading in the direction away from her. Whew!

Those two lovely sissies were in there. Fucking. Susan had that big cock in Linda's miniscule bottom. Amy shuddered with lust. She should just leave them alone. Mind her own business. Be a good neighbor.

Right.

Amy was drawn to the scene. She grabbed the doorknob once again and opened the door slightly. She saw the sissies in full, heated fucking. Linda was on her stomach at the end of the bed, high-heeled feet on the floor, seamed-stockinged legs quivering with lust, ass exposed to her standing lover's big cock and boundless enthusiasm. Linda's pink panties were down to her mid-thighs and her pretty, long, blonde hair was wet with sexual effort. Blonde, curly-haired, huge-cocked Susan was standing behind her love, white panties around her black-stockinged left ankle, kissing Linda's creamy neck as she pushed and pulled the monster that Linda craved in and out of her bottom.

Amy was so excited that she began to ejaculate helplessly, filling her panties with hot, sticky cream and making her cry out involuntarily. And be discovered. And be humiliated.

Susan turned her head and said, "You must be Spunkley's new girl. You're very pretty, but I'm giving all my love to Linda now. Come on in and have a seat. I'll take care of you next."

Amy's pretty face flushed with excitement and embarrassment. But she did as Susan asked.

Sitting where she could see everything, Amy marveled at the wonder that was Susan. The older pantyboy was still a bit boyish in appearance, like Amy. But feminine too. With lovely legs and a delicious bottom whose cheeks opened and closed with each vigorous thrust and counterthrust. With titties that flopped when she pushed that eight-inch monster in and out of Linda.

Amy understood why Linda looked deliriously happy. Susan was a very attractive sissy. The fact that she could fuck like a man gave her an additional, almost-irresistible charm.

Since the two had been "entertaining" Sir Arthur all night, which took the edge off a cummy response, Susan was able to fuck her lover without cumming for a good 20 minutes. The sweet, young angel Linda squealed and spewed her goo from her mini-peeny twice before Susan grunted and gave her sweetie a hot cum enema.

Poor Amy was humiliated, but transfixed. Then, after ten-or-so post orgasmic thrusts, Susan's cock drooped and slid out of Linda's moist pussy. Tenderly, Susan kissed Linda and said, "One of the rules of Spermapalooza is that if a pantyboy wants another pantyboy, they accommodate each other. You know that I love you best, so don't be angry. Sorry, Sweetheart."

That was a rule? No one told Amy. At least she didn't look like a voyeuristic goof. Still, she felt like an intruder in their love affair. Amy decided she didn't care. She wanted Susan. And maybe Linda too. And maybe Sir Arthur.

Now that she knew she was going to have to share Susan, Linda did not take Amy's presence well. Amy was shocked at the dark glare of jealousy that pretty, sissy face produced and slung at Amy. If looks could kill, Amy would have been at the center of the earth.

Amy decided that she was too scared to face wrath like that. So she said, "I'm sorry, girls. It's clear to me that you two are totally in love and that I would be an intrusion in your lives, Spermapalooza or not. I'll just leave your to your pleasure."

Amy was disappointed, but rose from her chair, adjusted herself and was prepared to sissy out of the room with all the dignity she could muster. But then Linda said, in a small voice, "No, please stay."

Amy and Susan looked at the angel with disbelief. Then Linda said, "I'm curious too. Before I met Susan and Daddy, I had only made love with girls. I didn't know I was a girl myself. I love Susan and Daddy completely, but…….. I want to see……things too."

Pantyboys are adventurous. And very practical. Linda knew she wasn't going to get through this Spermapalooza and others to come without….sampling. She thought Amy, sweet Amy, would be a good sample to sample.

At that moment, Amy's little cock could have cut diamonds.

Likewise for Linda.

Susan's rammer was a bit fucked out, but was showing early signs of recovery.

Linda sissied over to Amy and kissed her on the lips. Then gave her lots of scrumptious tongue. And sampling began.

Accustomed as they were to "double-teaming" Sir Arthur, Susan and Linda soon had Amy stripped and in quite a state. Wearing only her garter belt, stockings and heels, Amy was standing facing Linda and kissing her deeply as they rubbed peenies and nipples sweetly. To make things even more exciting, Susan's delicious body was spooned against Amy's back, her hands caressing Amy's hips as she kissed Amy's creamy neck and shoulders. Amy gasped as she felt Susan's thick "business" rubbing between her bottom cheeks and Susan's little titties pressed against her shoulder blades. She smelled Susan's perfume – Enchantment she thought idly – and Linda's – Pleasures? – and her own – Passion, or was it Wet Panties? The three smells mingled into the odor of raw sex and erotic need. Amy had spent some "girl time" with Rose and Caroline, but nothing this good. Linda was a novice, submissive, young pantyboy, much like Amy. She was the first pantyboy Amy had met who was more feminine (and smaller-cocked) than she was. Susan seemed to come from a race of super pantyboys. Beautiful and feminine, with a body any girl would kill for. Yet, big-dicked and aggressive in sex. Oh, the way Susan rubbed her big sticker between Amy's cheeks. The sweet, deep, tonguey kisses that Linda was granting Amy. The rub of her popsy against sweet Linda's.

Poor Amy was all-a tingle and it was no wonder when the rubbing of teeny peeny against teeny peeny made both sweethearts explode with rapture. Susan enhanced Amy's burning-hot, delicious cum by slipping two fingers deeply into Amy's perfect bottom, then rubbing that special spot throughout Amy's six, excruciating spurts.

It was almost as good as it had been with Daddy. Better in some ways; not as good as others.

Amy's hard cum had disoriented her a bit. She knew she had made a big mess all over Linda and Linda seemed to have graced Amy's privates with her sticky treasure as well. Susan had somehow gotten Amy and Linda to the bed and Amy was on her left side, once again the meat in the sissy sandwich.

Amy and Linda had both cum so the polite thing to do was to "personally assist" Susan. Amy was about to suggest it when she felt what appeared to be three (!) of Susan's fingers in her "dirty," this time augmented by some slippery substance that could only be preparation for…oh my. Susan was going to fuck Amy. Amy wanted that to happen very badly. But would Linda be jealous? Apparently not, since the little nancyboy had slipped herself down to Amy's privates, where she was eagerly tonguing up the mélange of cum, Amy's and Linda's, from their recent ecstasy. The little teaser was giving lots of naughty licks to Amy's pricklet and "silk purse" in the process as well.

Amy was about to experience the second cock of her lifetime in her pretty bottom and at that moment, she didn't worry about jealousy or adequacy or anything but that cock. Yum!!!

Susan removed her fingers from Amy's pussy, spooned up behind her, kissed her on the back of her ear and said, "You're very beautiful. May I enter your lovely bottom?"

Linda had begun to suck each of Amy's testicles gently. Amy's popsy was still soft, but she felt as if her body were aflame with lust. All she could say in response to Susan's polite question was a little whimper and a pretty wiggle of her bottom.

Susan considered that to be an affirmative. She skinned back the hood from her clittyhead, exposing all her pink nerve endings for a visit to their new quarters. Then she placed her peehole at the entrance to paradise and pushed.

Amy cried out. It was magnificent. Linda's hot tongue was amusing Amy's testicles as Susan gave her what every pantyboy needs – a big, anal visitor, guided by someone who knows how to give it a tour.

Amy's sissy wee was still limp, but as Susan pushed and grunted, Amy felt the same stirrings that she got when her tinkler was stiff and proud. Susan was rubbing Amy's right nipple between her thumb and forefinger as she fucked the sweet angel. Amy turned her head for a kiss and tasted Susan's tongue for the first time. Susan was grunting with effort, the way Daddy did when he fucked Amy. Amy greatly appreciated the effort.

Amy sucked Susan's tongue as she reveled in the sensation of penetration and the feeling of submissiveness. She was giving herself to Susan. Giving Susan intense pleasure. Amy adored being able to do that. The combination of physical and mental pleasures had their usual effect and Amy began to feel a tsunami-like orgasm gathering. But her peener was still limp. She had never …….. Oh. Her stomach spasmed and ……aahhh. Her soft doodle began to frost Linda's lovely features as the sweet knives of orgasm drove deeply into her middle, then rippled all the way to her stockinged, painted toes. She shuddered and contracted her ass muscles on Susan's cock, then heard Susan squeal. Had Amy hurt Susan? No. Susan was cumming hard, flooding Amy's bottom with more hot fluid than even Daddy had filled her with. Through her orgasmic haze, Amy looked down at Linda, whose cummy smile at Amy showed that she was not jealous.

What a fuck!

Making new friends is always fun when you're a pantyboy.

The three sissyboys lay on their backs, chests heaving. Amy in the middle, Susan to her right, Linda to her left. Amy looked at Linda. The little doll was a mess. Her pretty blonde hair was wet with cum and sexual exertion. Her face was covered with wet, sticky goo. Her privates glistened with the messy residue or her cock-to-cock rub with Amy. Her bottom was oozing Susan's goo from the recent, delightful seeing-to. She was beautiful.

Linda leaned over Amy to kiss Susan deeply, then she gave Amy a lovely kiss. "I'm off to shower up and spruce up girls. Don't do anything I wouldn't do. <giggle>"

Then Linda whispered into Amy's ear, "She really likes her nipples sucked after she fucks me. It reminds her that she's a girl."

Linda was being so sweet about sharing, Amy thought. Then she looked at Susan's eyes – at the way she looked at the departing Linda. Susan truly adored Linda and the feeling was obviously mutual. Linda had no worries about losing her Susan.

Amy decided to take Linda's advice. She nestled against Susan and began to nurse on her left nipple. Susan moaned with pleasure.

Amy reached for Susan's limp, but huge cocklet and began to massage it as she suckled Susan's plum-sized breast.

Then her girlish curiosity got the better of her and she began to ask Susan questions.

<Lick> <Suck> "You're so lucky to have titties, Susan. You have a fantastic body and you're so beautiful. How did you get these cute little breasts?"

"That's so nice, Amy. Keep doing that. Mmmm. Our Daddy, Sir Arthur Creambottom asked me three years ago if I wanted hormone shots. At first I didn't. But then I wanted to be as girly as I can be. People look at my big cock and think I'm not girlish. But I am."

Amy could see Susan's problem. She had a lovely feminine body, gorgeous face, femmy outlook, but the big cock was incongruous. Or was it?

Amy asked the killer question. "If you want to be thought of as a girl, why do you put your clitty in pantyboys' bottoms?"

It was the question Susan had asked herself many times. "Good question, Amy. Oh, Sweetie, please get over on my right side and give my other nipple some of that. Good girl. Mmmmm. My favorite thing in the whole world is for a nice, hetero, masculine man to possess me sexually. I want him to command me and make me his totally feminine sexual servant. I want a man to control the agenda and take possession of my body, making it an instrument of his pleasure. I get that from Daddy (Sir Arthur) at least once a night and it makes me deliriously happy. Trouble is, I'm also totally in love with Linda too and I want to possess her the way Sir Arthur possesses me. Linda's the lucky one. She gets what a pantyboy needs from both of us. Several times a day. She's such a delicate, sensitive flower. I would do anything for her. Or Sir Arthur."

It all sounded a little confusing to Amy. So she just kept sucking those sensitive nips and stroking that responsive cock.

Susan continued. "The worst part is coming to Spermapalooza. I love meeting and….interacting with the pantyboys. But the other daddies, some of them, make me angry."

Amy stopped sucking. "Why, Susan?" she asked. Then she went back to work.

"First, Amy, thank goodness for your Daddy. He treats me completely as a woman. He eats my pussy until I'm whimpering and sopping wet, then he fucks me until I'm bowlegged. Lord Spunkley is a real man. And so are some of the others. But some of the "daddies" want me to do things a girl wouldn't do and I don't like it. They want me to fuck their bottoms and I won't. I'm a girl and they're supposed to be men, darn it."

"Good for you, Susan," Amy said. "I'm proud of you. You have standards. How did you meet Linda?"

"Thanks, Honey. It's an interesting story. Three days after the last Spermapalooza, three months ago, Daddy and I took a trip to the United States. We took along an 18-year-old, newly hired valet called Harry. Harry and I got to be friends, then, one night when we were in Fromage, Wisconsin, Daddy went out with his old friend, Nick Nickerson, leaving Harry and me alone in our hotel suite."

At the time, the name of Nick Nickerson meant nothing to sweet, innocent Amy. You and I know, of course, that Nick is the publisher of "Panty Boy" magazine and that he has his Panty Mansion in Fromage, with beautiful, sexy, eager-to-please pantyboys hanging all over him. It was clear that Susan's Daddy was well-connected in pantyboy-admirer circles and that his visit to his friend's house in Fromage was to be an all-night, multi-orgasmic experience. But Amy had not yet connected those dots.

Susan said, "Oh, Sweetie, your mouth feels so good there and you have a lovely stroke. I'm getting hot and bothered all over again. Let me tell you more, but don't stop sucking my titty. Harry and I were left alone that night. I knew Daddy would be out all night fucking one of those little tramps over at that "Panty Mansion," and I had a little crush on Harry after a month on the road with him, so I sort of let him know that he could, you know, take liberties. He was kind of runty, but very sweet. Imagine my surprise when, after we kissed a while, he took his pants off and he was wearing pink, silk panties. Apparently, the lad was a pantyboy at heart, but hadn't been brave enough to let anyone know. He made a far better she, as you can see. We made love that night, all night, and the next morning. I put my nighties and stockings on Harry and he was totally submissive to me sexually. The little angel loved having his bottom boffed and when his Lordship rolled in with a seriously limp dick at noon the next day, the sight of my cock up Harry's bottom, stiffened him up straight away. Harry became Linda and we've all lived happily ever since. Daddy isn't jealous. Most of the time he loves to see us make love. But he insists that we stay "pure" between two and six p.m. every day so that when he joins us for our nightly evening in heaven, we have full, creamy bags for him. He gets mad as hell if we disobey him on that, but it's so difficult to leave my darling alone that long. The times he caught us fucking during forbidden times, he spanked us both. Hard. I cried and so did Linda, but it was exciting too. I love it when Daddy's masterful. And after a spanking, we get the best sex because his cock is its reddest, hottest, hardest and fiercest. Sir Arthur is a wonderful daddy, but so was Sir Roger."

Sir Roger? Amy wanted to ask Susan about Nick Nickerson and Sir Roger, but the situation had gotten critical. Pre-goo was flowing freely from Susan's peehole and it looked too good to waste. Amy applied her considerable tonguey talents to bathing Susan's cockhead and Susan's storytime was over. Amy's efforts produced the "pantyboy's big reward" all over her face as Susan pumped out glob after glob of the most nourishing meal on earth.

After the last spurt, Linda came back into the room, freshly showered, powdered, perfumed, pantied, and made up. "Nice work, Amy," she said. "Now while my Susan takes a shower and freshens up, I'll show you how we suck a cock in the Creambottom household."

And the fun went on most of the afternoon.

The girls broke it up at three so they could get ready for the first formal dinner of that quarter's Spermapalooza.

Amy was sexually spent when she got back to her room. Rose and Caroline were already primping for the big shindig and they teased Amy good-naturedly about her fast-developing libido. Then they told her to get a move on because nobody wanted to see a frump at the gathering of the world's daddiest daddies and sissiest sissies.

Amy hustled and somehow, in only three and a half hours, managed to make herself stunningly beautiful. She couldn't do much with her still-short hair, but the rest of her, from the hairline down, was feminine perfection.

Amy wore a slinky, sequined, blue evening gown that fell to her ankles, but was slit on both sides nearly up to her hips. She wore black, lace-top stockings and impossibly high, stiletto, silver sandals that showed off her silver-painted toes beautifully. Her dangly diamond earrings were a present from Daddy, of course. Even Rose and Caroline whistled. And the two of them would have stopped pacemakers within a ten-mile radius.

There was no time for a milking to relieve the tensions, so the three dolls had hard bulges in their panties as they gave each other light kisses and left their room for the walk to the Grand Hall.

What a spectacle it was. Eighteen world-class panty boys, dressed to the feminine nines. Pouty lips begging for a cock to part them. Stockinged legs eager to entwine a man's naked body. Tiny bulges in lovely evening gowns, accenting the true nature of the panty boys within.

And the men!! Elegant, urbane men in their 40s and 50s. Men who looked as if they would introduce themselves as "Bond, James Bond," then win a bundle at the baccarat table before bedding the most elegant woman in the room.

It was a feast! And for Amy, it would be all she could eat.

Heads turned as Amy entered the room. Was it her imagination that some of the men's bulges twitched when they saw her? Were they just looking at her with the curiosity afforded a new participant in their carnal carnival?

Amy believed so when she saw that Linda, who had chosen a slinky white gown, was also the center of a small pack of predators.

Amy received a major share of the attention from the men, however and was introduced rapidly and confusingly to Lord Stifflove, Sir Albert Spermwood, the Marquis of Spurtinhand, Sir Nigel Hardman, Dr. Rodney Jizzmore, and Sir Roger Self. Was that the same Sir Roger that Susan had said was her first lover? It was so much information in such a short time.

What Amy knew for sure was that she would willingly and enthusiastically have sex with anyone in that room. They were all beautiful – men and pantyboys alike. Did that make her a little tramp? No, just a normal, randy pantyboy.

It was all so intoxicating. She felt so beautiful in her elegant clothes and the ardent attention of the men had her blushing, stiff and drippy.

At dinner, Amy was seated between Helen, a gorgeous, 20-year-old personal assistant to Sir Neville Cumwell, and Lord Firmrod, a delicious 45-year-old Sean Connery look-alike who almost charmed the panties off Amy right there at the table (though the rules forbade sexual activity at dinner).

But after dinner, the real fun began. The men had devised a lottery system for matching up the girls with their "ravishers du soir." As host and payer of all the bills, Spunkley always had first choice of girls. He picked Susan, which surprised no one. Susan gave a little squeal of delight as she envisioned a night of passion and fulfillment.

Then the order was determined by selecting names from a jar. Sir Roger Self was selected first and everyone hooted. Why did he appear to be "special" to everyone there? The nice thing was that he picked Amy. When he asked her if she would spend the evening and night with him (no pantyboy was compelled to do anything sexual with anyone), she blushingly agreed. When Amy shyly looked around the room at the other pantyboys, she saw flashes of jealousy that Amy had been picked before them. "Good," Amy thought. "I'm prettier than you little tramps."

It was nice to see Amy getting into the spirit of things.

The selections continued. Lord Firmrod picked Linda. Sir Neville Cumwell picked Caroline. Sir Nigel Hardman picked Rose. Sir Arthur Creambottom picked Helen. Unfortunately, eight pantyboys were not selected, but that did not seem to disappoint them. All eight were guaranteed a man the next night and many of the girls seemed eager to "renew acquaintances" with each other.

Amy was quite nervous of "being had" by only her second man. But Sir Roger Self was very handsome and something else – he seemed more eager and randy than any of the daddies at the gathering.

Amy took Sir Roger's arm and sissied gracefully along as she accompanied him to his bedroom. As soon as they entered and the door was closed, the poor man took her in his arms and kissed her thoroughly. He sighed deeply as if an intense, critical hunger were finally being addressed. What was the problem? He was acting as if he wasn't "getting any." Didn't his personal assistant or assistants take care of him?

Still, his enthusiasm was infectious. Getting in the spirit of things, Amy asked Sir Roger to unzip her gown. He did so from behind her, slowly, with excellent kissing of her ears, neck, shoulders, then back as each pore was bared to his hot lips.

Amy liked this guy.

When he had unzipped her completely, Amy shimmied her dress down to her ankles, then stepped out of it, one silver-sandaled foot at a time. Amy's bra and panties were black, to match her stockings. They always say that when a girl wears black underwear, she's looking to get laid. With us pantyboys that's true. But it's also true about red, white, blue, green and no underwear. Pantyboys are always looking to get laid.

And Sir Roger was more than ready for the task. Amy had seen Spunkley in full heat, but he was calm compared to Sir Roger Self.

Amy decided she needed to settle him down a bit or he was going to explode. And how would she explain an exploded knight of the realm to the police? With her cum stains everywhere?

Slipping her slip over her head. Amy took charge of the early proceedings. She got on her knees, grabbed Sir Roger's pants in both hands and yanked them down, underpants and all, with one swift pull, to his ankles. Nice cock, she thought as, without ceremony, she licked the overwrought man's hard shaft. She lifted, then cuddled his heavy balls as she took as much as she could of his big mushroom into her warm, moist mouth. The poor man was moaning and lurching. Was he going to cum already?

By golly, he was.

Sir Roger groaned in ecstatic torment as he let go of the creamiest, thickest, biggest load of seminal fluids that it had ever been Amy's pleasure to liberate. Goo ran down her throat and out of her mouth, down her chin, onto her chest and all the way to her panties.

It was as if the man hadn't properly orgasmed in months.

Sadly, such was the case.

Amy began to feel as much like a social worker as a lover. The man needed to unload more than his liquid burdens. Amy rose to her high-heeled feet, then helped a temporarily incapacitated Sir Roger to the bed. He lay on his back and she cuddled beside him.

"Want to tell me about it?" she offered.

What man doesn't want sympathy from a woman? Especially one he was planning on fucking all night.

Sir Roger spilled the beans as copiously as he had spilled his sperm.

"I have no pantyboys of my own," he admitted.

Amy was shocked. Why not? How could a man like him live without pantyboys? How could he be part of Spermapalooza? Then she listened.

"My wife has all the money in our marriage. She married me for my title, I guess. She didn't give me much sexually, so maybe that was why I turned to pantyboys. Or maybe I just like you pantyboys better than I like women. Anyway, she pretty much ignored me until one time she came home and caught me with my todger up the pretty bottom of a boy from the village named Jerome. He looked ten times better in my wife's lingerie than she did and we had been having a steamy affair for three months, beginning the day after his 18^th birthday. My wife, Roberta caught us totally 'in the act,' no ambiguity. And after she threw my sweet girl out (and made her cry), she told me that if I ever did that again, she would divorce me and leave me penniless. I would have to get a job, Amy!!!! [Horrors!] I had to let my angel go, though I still love her and would have picked her tonight if Spunkley hadn't. Her name is Susan and she's the prettiest angel on earth, no offense, my dear."

Omigosh, Amy thought. This is the Sir Roger whom Susan talked about. How pitiful. A sissy lover who can only love sissies 16 days a year.

Sir Roger continued. "Spunkley and I were school chums, in fact, we often took 'schoolboy pleasure' together, so he invited me to the gatherings as a big favor. Don't know how I'd live without it. Roberta has no idea what really goes on here. Or doesn't want to know. If it weren't for Panty Boy magazine, I would never get any relief in the interims. As it is, 349 nights a year, I have to roger myself."

Amy felt genuinely sorry for that nice man. And extraordinarily curious about Panty Boy magazine. Nearly twelve hours later, after giving the man more cums than an average man has in a month, she asked him if he had a copy of Panty Boy she could borrow.

As it turned out, Sir Roger had the latest issue, that year's "Salute to the Military" issue. He gave it to Amy gratefully as she kissed him farewell.

Amy slipped back to her room to find Rose and Caroline discussing their adventures. "Did Sir Roger give you the 'I'm just a poor man with no pantyboys' line?" Rose asked Amy.

Amy was startled. "Isn't it true?" she asked.

Caroline smiled, "It's true, but we're tired of hearing it. He should do what most men do. Find himself a pretty boy, dress her up, fuck her tight, little bottom, then put her up in a little lovenest where the wife can't find them."

Amy thought that Roberta sounded like the kind of woman who would find out what Sir Roger was doing, then make good on her promises to leave him penniless. Imagine – an upperclass Englishman forced to find a job and work!

Caroline said, "Is that the new Panty Boy?"

Amy acknowledged that it was. "Do you 'read' it?" she asked the pretty twosome.

"All pantyboys read it, Honey," Rose said. "And several million men, twice each month. "If you were around once in a while, with an empty bottom, we could teach you more about our 'culture.' But how can we when you always seem to have a man's prick up your arse?"

The girls all giggled at the good-natured teasing. Amy looked at her watch. It was 9 a.m. At noon, she was to meeting Helen, that scrumptious morsel she sat next to at dinner the previous evening, at the pool. Helen told her that the pool was a very active place during Spermapalooza and that Helen wanted to show Amy how good it felt to take a pretty sissy's six inches of love from under water.

Caroline and Rose drifted off to the showers and Amy was left to peruse her first issue of Panty Boy.

The cover of the "Salute to the Military" issue showed four pantyboys abreast, facing the reader. They were marching in step and each was wearing the headgear of a soldier, sailor, airman or marine. Each was also wearing black, fully fashioned stockings, a ruffled, black garter belt, strappy, black, four-inch-stiletto sandals, and nothing else. Each was gorgeous and feminine, flat-chested, but perfectly made up. But the killer part of the picture was that each of their three-inch popsies was stiff and, I'm not kidding, spurting thick strands of girlish cream.

It was an incredible picture. How the photographer managed it was a mystery. The caption, "Cumming together for their country" was corny but cute. Clearly, this was a first-rate publication.

Amy opened the magazine to the first pictorial. It was called "The General's Favorite" and the opening picture was that of a young man, somewhere in his late teens or early twenties, dressed in desert battle uniform, wearing lieutenant's rank. He was holding a pointer that was placed on a map and he was briefing four senior officers, headed by a general. A very handsome general. Amy tingled as she thought of that general commanding her.

The next picture then showed the general shaking the lieutenant's hand and saying, "Good briefing. I'll see you at 1900 hours." The lieutenant was smiling broadly.

Amy turned the page. The lieutenant was back in a barracks-type room, spartanly furnished, with a single Army cot and green blanket. But when he opened his footlocker, it was filled with feminine paraphernalia.

Amy squirmed a little as she saw the lieutenant strip to the buff. He was slim and tiny-dicked, with a nice, bubble butt and the cutest little sack of nuts. He took out a make-up kit and mirror and transformed his face to a high state of loveliness. It was so cute to see his peener rise as he was turned on by the sight of himself. The young fellow extracted feminine item after feminine item from the footlocker, carefully putting each on as he exhibited all his assets to the camera. The results were spectacular. He was the equal of anyone at Spermapalooza. Pink lingerie, including fully fashioned stockings, garter belt, panties, pink stiletto sandals and pink babydoll. Amy felt a painful stiffness in her privates looking at that rare beauty.

When SHE was all together, the lieutenant looked at her watch and said, "It's 1900. That must be General Hardman at my door." Well, if it were the first sergeant instead, Miss Pink Babydoll would have had some splainin' to do.

But, of course, it was the General at the door and when she opened it, the military leader's eyes caught flame. His pink pantyboy was a tasty treat and obviously all for him.

In the next picture, the General had his arms around the pantyboy, with his hands cupping her pantied bottom. They were kissing with tongues and whole heads. The caption said, "Oh, Catherine, I've missed you so. This war has reduced our opportunities for love."

Amy stirred when she saw the next picture. Catherine was on her back on the bed. Only the General's huge, erect prick gave evidence that he was there as Catherine lifted her babydoll, pulled down her panties and exposed her tiny pricklet, pink purse and wrinkled pootie for the General's personal pleasure. "I serve my country and I serve you, Darling," she said. "Command me."

Amy adored the submissiveness of the situation. And the beauty of the people involved. And the first-rate production values of the whole magazine. She also liked the following set of 30 pictures where the General splashed cum on over and in every pore of Lieutenant "Catherine's" exquisite body and Catherine spurted more cum than an entire dorm building at a boys' boarding school after lights out.

It was clear to Amy from that moment on that she wanted to be featured in a Panty Boy pictorial. She was more than beautiful enough. She just needed the right connections. When Spermapalooza was over, she would ask Daddy. Daddy would be a fool to turn down any request from someone who was giving him well beyond what any man dreams of.

But first there was the rest of Spermapalooza. Allow me to summarize a bit.

Helen proved to be an outstanding instructress in underwater fornication and she and Amy agreed to get together again at their earliest convenience. That second night, Rose and Caroline ended up in the pool of girls who weren't selected for a night with a Daddy, but that was fine with them. They had many "close" friends among the other non-selectees and they had a fine evening and night. Susan was selected by Sir Roger and they had a loving reunion.

Amy became the only other girl to be matched with a man for the second night in a row, this time with Susan and Linda's Daddy, Sir Arthur Creambottom. Feeling very naughty, Amy acted peevish and bratty, causing Sir Arthur to first threaten, then spank Amy hard. The angel wanted to know what it was like to be spanked, then lovingly fucked. She wasn't keen on the spanking, crying real tears and unable to sit the next day. But the enthusiastic fucking of her sore ass after the discipline was a near-heaven experience for her. She even liked pulling her satin panties over her red bottom.

The next night, Amy and Susan were disqualified from the lottery to win a man and agreed to spend the night alone together. Amy says that the night with big-cocked Susan was better sex than being with any man. With maybe 20 exceptions. Maybe 30.

Amy's little slap-and-tickle, daytime, Spermapalooza encounters with men and pantyboys were too numerous to record in this chronicle.

The last night of the "festival" was and is, by tradition, a free-for-all. Cots and couches are moved into the Grand Hall. Pantyboys wear their best lingerie. Men wear nothing. Lord Spunkley says, "Go." Sir Roger enjoys his last moments of joy for three months.

Whew!

 

Chapter Seven – Moving On

Amy, Caroline, Rose and Spunkley waved goodbye to the last car of guests the next morning, then retired to his boudoir to get reacquainted. Two days later, they emerged.

That night, Spunkley spent with someone else for the first time since Amy had been Amy.

She would have been OK with that, since she was planning to spend a nice night with James, the butler's assistant, at her first opportunity. The only problem was, it was James that Spunkley was spending the night with. And the next night. It seemed that James, now Jeanette, was Spunkley's "lady in waiting," since he knew that he would be able to make a big announcement about Rose once details had been ironed out.

Rose was marrying a Texas oil billionaire whom she had been "meeting" whenever Rich Wells was in the country.

"He's sweet and very nice," she told Caroline and Amy. "And I get $250 million in a pre-nup if I stay five years. I really love him. Really."

A man who gives you a quarter bil is easy to love, my friend.

The more I thought about it, if Rose's husband fucked her five times a day for five years, it's only costing him $27,378 per life-altering experience, which is a lot better than what some men pay for wives who don't put out at all, yet take all the cash.

Anyway, James, I mean Jeanette, had been paying so much attention to the pantyboys because she wanted to be one. And his Lordship gave her the opportunity. Often.

Daddy still fucked Amy and Caroline at least once a day, and Amy spent a night or two with him each week, but Jeanette was his favorite now. Amy saw the handwriting on the wall and began to pester Daddy to hook her up with someone who would feature her in Panty Boy.

Spunkley loved Amy enough that he could let her go, with full pension and benefits. Nick Nickerson was invited to the next Spermapalooza, which he gratefully attended, bringing along three of his outstanding paramours for the common enjoyment.

As luck would have it, Nick was smitten with Amy and he asked her to accompany him to the Panty Mansion in Fromage, Wisconsin. She would live there with him while he "arranged things" for her pictorial. The farewell was tearful, because Spunkley knew that Amy would thrive in the wide-open environment of the United States and would never live in England again.

Well, it was three fuck-filled months before Nick "arranged things," but it was well worth it. Amy's pictorial, "Pip, Pip, Old Chap," where she was the pantyboy toy for an English lord broke sales records (until my pictorial, of course).

Caroline decided to accept the marriage proposal of a software mogul. Spunkley replaced her and Amy quite easily. There are always pretty boys out there eager for a life at a place like Spunkley Manor. Do you know any?

Sir Arthur Creambottom finally asked Susan to marry him, with the agreement that they still attend Spermapalooza. Susan was the prettiest bride in England since Princess Di and Linda was her matron of honor. Linda fell in love with one of Creambottom's school chums, the fabulously wealthy Sultan of Ejaculatia, so Linda and Susan only see each other during a one-week holiday they take together each year.

And the rest you can find out by reading individual stories about Judy, Sandy, and me (Cheryl), then one about our lives in New York ("Sissies and the City").

I hope you will.

 

Please let me know what you think at gingerfred99@yahoo.com

  

  

  

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