#1
Post rating: ~

I like history, and politics. And the one thing that stands out if you study the course of human events during the twentieth century is that men will commit any crime if they think they're pursuing some idealistic, utopian end-state. Stalin, Hitler, Mao - all caused so much suffering, because they all thought that they had the most perfect system of organising society in their heads, and any price was worth paying in order to achieve it. After all, what price do you put on unfettered, universal bliss?

Steve's idealistic utopian end-state was my sister. And my plan was to see how far he would go to attain her.

My sister was generally considered attractive. And I guess she was, if you like that sort of thing; big tits, a skinny frame, and a not entirely unpleasant face. But Steve? He was absolutely crazy about her. He used to know her, last year when they were in the same year, but now they didn't share any classes. He was so crazy about her, in fact, that she got HER kicks from being a little prick-tease. Going out with his friends, then turning him down; you know, the sort of thing bitches who think they're all that get up to. But bless him, that all just served to make him more eager.

And it was his eagerness which I was interested in.

I had very little in common with Steve. But the fact I always happened to be in the area whenever he was recalling his trysts, together with my sister, gave him reason to talk to me on occasion. During one such conversation, just before maths was due to start and the two of us were sitting opposite one another at a table, he asked (as he always did) what my sister was doing at the weekend. Rather than sparing his feelings, I gave him a list of the boys she was intending to spend time with over the course of the three days.

"But you know," I said, leaning back in my chair, putting my hands behind my head, all casual like, "I've been thinking. If you're that eager to…get to know…my sister, well-"

"You'll put in a good word for me?!"

"Well, yeah…I mean, *maybe* I could put in a good word for you…if it's that big a deal, I mean…"

"Mate, you know how I go on about her all the fuckin' time! That'd be sweet!"

"Now hang on a minute, Steve. My word carries a lot of weight with my sister," a lie, "and I care a great deal about exactly who she goes out with," another lie, "so I ain't just gonna go recommending you because you've asked me to, now am I?"

"I guess not," he said through gritted teeth, the previous boyish smile now gone. "I had no idea you were so close with your sister," he added somewhat wryly. "I don't think I've…EVER…seen her speak to you, even though you both go to the same college."

"I know," I replied jokingly, "she thinks I make her look bad. Can you believe that?"

He went to speak, no doubt with some sarcastic 'no' which he would go on to find hilarious, but I cut him off by leaning in close to the table, so I could smell his delightful deodorant, and whispered, "but she really values my judgement, especially concerning boys." I looked around, as if to check I wasn't being overheard, before whispering conspiratorially, "I think it's because I'm gay. She recognises that, you know…I've got an eye for these things."

He nodded, seriously this time. "That…actually…makes a little bit of sense."

Of course it does, I thought. I'd scripted my whole routine weeks before.

"So…what are you saying, exactly?" His brow furrowed in genuine confusion. "That I have to…spend time with you? 'Prove myself'?"

"Well, I wouldn't put it in quite those terms…" Of course, proving himself was exactly what I had in mind; but he'd just said it so derisively, I could hardly admit to that now. I'd have to be more subtle. Just at that moment, the teacher walked in and began bringing the class to order. "Listen Steve, this isn't really the best time to talk about it; meet me at around half four by the gates, ok?" I'd picked a time an hour after college ended, to test his resolve. It would be a good sign of how willing he was to go along with what I had planned.

I was happy to see him nod his head, but with some apprehension; he clearly was not happy at this turn of events. I only hoped that I had judged Steve's need for pussy accurately, or my whole plan would collapse.

Chapter Two

The postponement of the rest of our conversation allowed me to consider where to go from here. I slightly modified my plan, but I was so amped up, I couldn't stop myself from pushing ahead with it today.

Steve met me outside the gates at around 4.30pm. As soon as I saw him, I shouted "come on then," and turned around, walking up the road. Steve, eager little pup that he is, jogged to catch up with me. My cock got a little harder when he just did what I asked. I wondered about what else I could get him to do - but I knew I couldn't push things too far. Not yet.

"Alright Steve?"

"Yep. Thought you were gunna run off."

I laughed, "nah mate; I knew you could catch up with me using those long legs of yours." Wanting to turn the topic back to his favourite subject, I continued, "my sister likes boys with long legs, you know. She's a very…physical animal."

"Is she."

"Oh yeah! She's pretty superficial like that. It's all about looks and stuff."

Steve stopped moving, holding out his arms, as if welcoming my appraisal, and shouted, "what about me, eh? Not good enough for her, am I?" Steve was dressed in white trainers, loose blue jeans and a bright blue sweater.

"I never said that."

"Well if she's always turning me down, and if it's all about looks, then that must be it, right?"

"It's not that at all!" I shouted, pretending to of momentarily lost my temper, and then carried on walking, in silence, as if I had said something I shouldn't of. All those queer-ass drama lessons were finally paying off.

"How can you be so sure? Has…HAS SHE SPOKEN TO YOU ABOUT ME?!"

"Steve, I can't just betray my sister like that!"

"Listen, if she's said something about me, I…I have a fucking right to know, man. I mean, where's my fucking right to reply? Eh? When do I get to have my say, if I never bloody find out about it?"

"Ok ok ok," I replied, doing a good impression of an uncertain and exasperated person, holding up my hands in mock surrender, "fine. You make a good point. But you absolutely can't tell her - or anyone else - about this."

"What has she fucking said."

Not exactly the response I was hoping for, but provided everything went to plan, I didn't need his assurance - he'd be begging ME not to spill the beans. Provided everything went to plan.

"Well. And remember - this isn't me saying this, ok? This is just my sister."

Steve stood, impassive, arms folded, singularly lacking in the confidence I usually saw from him in the classroom. I'd stripped it from him. Oooh, another boner. I ignored it; had to focus all my energies on the web of lies I was spinning.

"According to one of my sisters friends; who I guess you've…had sex…with," could literally be anyone, "you're, um…lacking…in a certain area. If you know what I mean."

"Un-fucking-believable," he replied, after a couple of minutes in stunned silence, clearly in shock.

I whispered, "the sexual organs department, is what I meant."

"Yes I know what fucking department you're referring to! I'm not a total moron! It's STILL unbelievable!"

"So…" now it was my turn to look all confused, "it's not true, then?"

"WHAT? Of course it's not true! How could you possibly think it's true! You know as much about my sex life as I do!"

"Well…" I began sceptically, "yeah, but I just thought that was all bullshit."

Steve just looked on impassively. "Oh. I see. Well that explains it. She thinks I've got a small dick, and you're telling her I'm some saddo who makes up my own fucking life."

"So EVERYTHING you say in that classroom is correct, then?"

He paused for a moment, before retorting, "listen, the point is, I ain't got a small dick, ok?"

I chuckled.

"What are you laughing at?! You've probably got the smallest dick in the fucking year!"

I act shocked. "There's no need to get so personal…I don't have to tell you this stuff, I'm just trying to be helpful…I think I'll go home now."

Steve grabs my arm, his fingers gripping me, ensuring I can't get away, whilst turning on the charm as he does so. "Listen, mate, listen; I didn't mean it. You know that. It's just really stressful, ya' know? Just…I'd just be really grateful if you'd tell her it wasn't true, and to give me a chance, ok?"

I replied without emotion, "I can't do that, Steve. And what's more, I think I'll have to tell her about this conversation when I get home; I feel quite sick about betraying her like this. Now let go of my arm."

He didn't let go of my arm. I had trouble not melting in the chocolately fire of his eyes as they fixed on my own. "It's not true. Ok? Do you understand? It's a lie. It's a lie, and it's ruining my chances with her. She might really fucking like me if she gave me a chance!"

I stopped resisting, and pretended to give his comment thought. "The problem though Steve…is that, I don't know it isn't true, do I? I mean, my sister's mate has actually had sex with you…how am I supposed to compete with that? Tell my sister that you've told me you actually have a perfectly reasonable dick, and because you say it, it must be true? I mean Jesus Christ Steve, I really don't mean to offend you - but EVERY bloke with a small dick says that."

"Oh fine, fuck off then."

He turned back around, heading back in the direction of the school, and his own house.

"Steve," I shouted. He turned. "Get back here."

He walked back towards me. "If you're THAT eager to…prove yourself, shall we say…well, there is an obvious way you can do so."

"What do you mean?" I left his question hanging there, until the pieces slotted into place in his own brain. "What? You're not suggesting…"

"Man, it's up to you. It's just an obvious suggestion. Besides, we're just blokes; it's no big deal."

"You're fucking queer. That makes it a big deal."

I smirked. "Well, I ain't gonna lie…I'll get my own kicks from…seeing…it, but it IS a solution to this problem, isn't it?"

Steve looked up and down the road, partly in contemplation, and partly to see if any of his friends could see him, I think. "If I agree to this, it means absolutely nothing, and it leads absolutely nowhere, understand?"

A bizarre request, but given where I intended to take this relationship, quite prescient, I guess. I readily agreed, happy to add one more lie to the pile I'd created over the past afternoon, so long as it furthered my aims.

"When d'you wanna…you know…get this over with," he asked.

I replied, enthusiastic to get things moving and keep up the momentum, "how about now?"

"Dude, we're in the middle of the fucking street."

As if this wasn't all part of the plan, I pretended to think for a minute. "Well, the school field IS just over there…" I pointed.

"I dunno, man…"

"There's no one at school now," I replied. "No-one'll see…listen, if you wanna back out of all this, then you can, I know things are moving pretty quickly; you might of agreed to something you don't want to…"

He knew what I was implying. "It's nothing to do with my dick, alright? I ain't reluctant because of THAT - I just don't wanna have to take my clothes off on a fucking field,"

"Like I said, if you're unhappy about all this…"

Having tweaked his sensibilities sufficiently, he walked off towards the field in a huff, declaring, "right, we'll do it right fucking now."

I followed behind, smiling.

Chapter Three

Steve's undoing was sealed on that day, on a windswept school field in March, although he wouldn't realise it til weeks later. In the dark light, I felt sure no-one would see us; but the fact we were standing in the middle of a large school field comprised of about 3 football pitches and a couple of rugby fields, directly adjoining the well-lit school complex, was no doubt quite intimidating to him. We both stood there, me watching him watch the school, his eyes fixed on the tiny, well-lit windows, no doubt wondering if there was someone in one of those rooms looking out at the field, seeing two lone figures, and stopping whatever they were doing to see what the figures would do next. Perhaps retrieving their camera phone, to zoom in…identify the figures…and take a picture, should they do something interesting.

His backpack hung halfway down his ass behind him, weighed down with whatever the fucking moron put in his backpack of a morning. The jeans were so loose that you couldn't really see much of his rear anyway, but given his active lifestyle, I knew it'd be a humdinger, and I intended to get my claws into it soon enough.

"Come on then," I said, very business-like. "We've both got mothers to get home to, haven't we?"

He smiled at my unfunny remark; a sign in itself of how nervous he was. "Yep," he replied, turning to face me.

He watched with rapidly mounting horror as I reached down and unfastened his jeans, unzipped 'em, and yanked both them and his white Aussiebum boxer-shorts down his thighs; his jeans continued their downward trajectory, pooling at his white sock-tops, which were about shoulder-width apart. By the time he realised what I was doing, and by the time his brain told him he was angry about me doing this myself, it was over, and I guess he didn't see fit to complain about it because he just stood there, watching me.

I myself also just stood there, for a good few seconds, feeling Steve's eyes watching me, his gay friend, watching his straight-boy dick. It was, I guess, everything I had hoped for. Soft, of course - this whole situation wasn't exactly turning him on - it was about four inches long, with a good thickness and possessing a dark, tanned complexion, capped with a tulip-shaped hooded dome, framed by lose, crinkly skin. Exposed to the cool air, his balls had retracted fully into his body, his sack consisting of a single tennis ball-shaped mass, coated in a dark fur which spread to encapsulate his whole groin.

After looking down there for a minute, I returned to look at Steve's face; his arms were still behind his back, clearly unclear what to do with them, where they'd been since I had unceremoniously pulled his jeans down. He was repeatedly biting his luscious, juicy lower lip, and staring off into the distance.

"You done yet," he whispered.

"Um… don't get me wrong, it's a nice lookin' dick and everything, but its, erm…well, it's soft, isn't it?"

He started shaking his head, still refusing to look at me. "No," he simply said.

"Listen mate, I ain't trying to deceive you or anything," boy was I going to hell, "I mean, it's just logical, ain't it? When a girl says 'you have a small dick', she means its small when it's hard - you know, compared to other hardons. She ain't saying its small when it's soft, but turns into a fucking great big whopper when it's hard, is she? I…I…dunno what to say, in all honesty." I frowned, as if in thought. "Did…did you think, like, seeing your dick soft would be the end of it, or something?"

I was trying to make him feel stupid now. Not the hardest thing in the world to do. "I don't know what I thought," he mumbled indignantly, a tremor in his voice.

He surprised me when, without another word, his soft, big right paw reached down and started mechanically yanking on his soft cock, his eyes still focussing tightly on the dark vista of the field, and resolutely refusing to satisfy my unspoken urge of having the buff straight stud look at me whilst he wanked himself. Not completely devoid of pity, I stood to one side, allowing him to zone me out as I watched.

Facing away from the school building - which he did for his own mental health, I think - gave him a slightly ethereal appearance; with the light silhouetting him, making him - and his thick, methodically moving arm - cast a long shadow as he went to work.

Went to work achieving a whole lot of nothing, though. He wasn't getting hard. In fact, I think wanking on a field with me present had made the hapless teenager get softer if anything.

My encouragement's didn't help. "Try thinking of my sister," I advised; "maybe spitting on your hand'll help", I suggested.

At which point he replied, "WOULD you shut the fuck up. You're the bloody problem, not the solution." I stood in silence.

For a minute…maybe two.

I reached across and gripped the hard muscle of his right shoulder, so wonderfully displayed through his loose blue jumper, squeezing it and rubbing my hand up and down, feeling the bone, deep in his shoulder, move to and fro as he did himself.

"What are you doing? Stop doing that."

"I thought it might help," I replied, continuing to rub.

"Well it isn't."

"What about this" I asked, my hand gliding down onto the pronounced, sloping heartland of his right pectoral muscle.

I barely managed to squeeze the solid breast tissue before his left hand swept up and batted my hand away. "Don't fucking touch me," he stated.

I stood for another ten minutes, watching him not get hard. This was exactly what I had intended, of course; but him crumbling and letting me get my mits on his joystick was not something I could really control. It depended on how much he wanted to sleep with my sister…I decided to up the stakes for him.

The first he knew about the picture I took was the sudden flash of my phone. With him looking at me, his hand stopped, I put my phone back in my pocket, and went to make my way back to the main road.

"Did you just take a picture of me wanking?!"

I turned around. "What? Oh. Well, yeah. Of course. I'll tell my sister how big it was soft, that you couldn't get it up, and if she doesn't believe me, I can show her the picture."

I turned back around and resumed walking, like what I'd just said was perfectly reasonable and deserving of no further discussion. He hobbled after me, pulling his jeans up as he went. "You can't do that! She'll think I'm an absolute retard for wanking infront of her brother!"

"Well…I have to say WHY I'm so late home, don't I? And like I said earlier, I don't really like lying to my sister…and if I'm honest, the whole afternoon's been a bit of a bloody let down. I mean, here you are, Mr. Super Stud, and you can't get a stiffy just because some lad from your class is watching. I don't know how you manage when you have an actual girl as the audience."

"This…this is about me not wanting you to touch me, isn't it? You're mad that I didn't want you groping me. Ok, fine; you can…hold…my shoulder, or something; just gimme a bit more time, ok?"

Inwardly, I smiled. But this was no time for compassion; I had to press my advantage. "No. I'm pissed off. You've wasted my fucking time, Steve. And if you think you're gonna get away with telling those stupid stories in maths, you've got another thing coming, if you'll pardon the pun."

I turned around again, and he got predictably angry. "Wait, man…just…ok…just…FUCKING WAIT, ok? Just STOP for a minute."

I stopped, but before he had a chance to say whatever it was he wanted to say, I turned and jumped back into his face, taking the initiative, and stripping the great charmer of even more confidence, and dignity.

"Right. You want me to waste more fucking time here with you? Fine. But please, don't flatter yourself by thinking I'm actually ENJOYING this. I suggested this meeting to you today in maths as a fucking favour - TO YOU. So you could know how things really stand, and maybe if I got to know you, I could put in a good word - I didn't suggest it so I could be in the freezing cold at 5pm on the school field, watching some great big lumbering oaf with an attitude problem rub his wet noodle. This - all this - is YOU, not me. I didn't make you do ANY of it. Ok? Do you understand, Stevsie? I'm not speaking too quickly for you, am I? It's all YOU. Now, let's look at this fucking LOGICALLY, for just a quick minute - I promise, it won't hurt TOO much. You're standing here trying to get a hardon for me, yes? And you're not getting one. That's the sad truth. Now, the obvious way around this is for me to intervene, isn't it? But I don't want your bloody attitude to get in the way and make this harder - if you'll pardon the pun - than it needs to be. So you're going to tell me, Stevsie. You're going to tell me what you want me to do. Now, what do you want me to do?"

"You know what…"

"No. You tell me. What it is you WANT me to do."

"I guess I…want…you to…make me hard. And…and not tell your sister about it. About this…about any of this. Ok? And, um…then we'll call it quits. Right? You…have your bit of fun, then that's the end of it, and nobody ever hears about this again."

I bowed with a flourish. "Well why didn't you just say so? Your wish is my command. Now, you just stand there."

I strode back to the boy, now standing with his designer jeans haphazardly hanging on his hips, backpack still securely fastened to his back by both straps.

I knelt.

He cautiously took a few steps backward.

I recklessly scooted forward.

"Gotta reach your dick, ain't I Stevsie? Pretty difficult if you're beyond arms reach."

"You're like, six inches away from my dick, dude."

I smiled, looking up at him. "I don't like to stretch my arms."

I carefully unzipped his jeans halfway, and reached into the small opening with my hand.

"See Stevsie," I began, "the trick is, to keep yer dick nice and warm. He doesn't like being all cold." As I spoke, my hand made contact with the gnarled thatch of pubes above his dick. Gliding further down, the tip of my middle finger ran down the loose skin which coated the soft yielding flesh of his teenage appendage, stopping for the briefest of moments when I reached the rim of his covered crown, to gently tickle and scratch the ridge, looking up at him as I did so; seeing him breath in, but manfully try to hide it.

He was determined to derive no pleasure from this; for it to be just business.

I wouldn't let him.

My inquisitive finger continued its downward journey, reaching his peepee hole, which I investigated with similar diligence, softly tickling with my nail the delicate collar of skin covering his knob.

After a few moments with my hand inside his warm jeans, I felt a slight stiffening in his shaft; something which was confirmed with the skin at his opening parting to allow the very tip of his boy bulb to meet the pad of my sweaty finger, which stroked the little fella, eager to get more of him out into the open.

Steve disguised his heavier breathing with clearing his throat and then snorting through his nose, which to be honest was a pretty unattractive thing to witness, all things considered.

After a few minutes of careful and judicious petting, I decided now was as good a time as any to carefully grip his two-thirds hard cock, and slowly pull back the skin from his helmet, and start gently fisting him, my hand, together with his malleable flesh, gliding over the head of his prick over and over.

With my other hand, I pulled the zip of his jeans down fully, and reached in, beneath the hand already pleasuring the simple-minded straight boy, and solved the mystery of Stevsie's missing boxer-shorts; I'd wondered where they'd gotten to - in his haste, he'd previously only pulled up his jeans, and his underwear was just pulled up in a bundle, up to his inside leg.

Stretching the shorts down a little so I could surmount them, I took possession of Steve's nuts; now in the warmer environment, it was possible to investigate them a lot more thoroughly - although whereas previously I could only rely on my sight, now, I could only rely on my touch.

I intended to make full use of this sense.

With the nails of my fingers raking down the rear of his still-firm, but gelatinous sack, which now rested securely in the palm of my hand, my thumb was free to poke and prod each distended bollock, making out their oval shape, and walnut size. My other hand was now speedily running up and down the much stiffer six and a half inch shaft of the boy.

I think we could both see we were now moving beyond the strict remit of 'making him hard', but with him staring up at the night sky, emitting quiet, pained sighs of satisfaction from the pit of his stomach, I could see he wasn't really about to complain.

Deciding to go for broke, I delicately hefted his nuts out into the cold night air, quickly followed by his shaft, which I could now look at for the first time; pointing proudly up towards the night sky, the thick man spike possessed a pale hue along the shaft, which after the collar of wrinkled skin near the sensitive ridge, gave way to the bright floral pink shade of his slimy head.

I ran the tip of my index finger along the fat pulsing blue vein which ran up his shaft alongside the pronounced tube his sperm traversed when he was fucking some girl. My middle finger ran up that one; when I reached the pink crown to which the fuck tube led, I took the opportunity to cheekily diddle his glans with my rough nail, causing his entire organ to flex and stiffen still further with need, a silver bead of seminal fluid seeping over the edge of his tip, and sliding down the granite shaft.

With him now perfectly on display, it was no effort at all to reach one again for my phone, and take a pic of the needful lad, on the school field in blue jumper and white trainers, with his backpack on, and his pronounced cock and balls hanging out of his designer denim jeans, like some respectable middle class teenage fuck-toy.

"Don't worry," I said reassuringly, "that's just for my personal amusement."

He didn't make any more of it; presumably feeling he could trust me, after I'd just spent 15 minutes playing with the sex organs he usually only let pretty girls to play with.

"That's it, then?" He asked, breathing still quite pronounced. "You're…done?"

I knew I could've done more. He was basically asking me to finish him off. But he needed to learn; he was dancing to my tune now, not his own. He wanted to cum? Then he can't cum.

"Yep," I said, going to stand up, before stopping myself.

"Oh, I nearly forgot," I added, returning to my knees before him, resulting in the beginnings of a cocky grin from him - a grin which was removed when I casually leaned forward, ran the tip of my tongue up along the dewy line created by the fluid I'd spied previously.

Quickly gliding along the prickly, salty stick of rock till I reached the tip where my tongue sampled the gamier, more base flavours of the clueless lad's knob, I sealed my lips around it, creating a vacuum, and sucked twice whilst swiping my tongue here there and everywhere over his delicate tip, hoovering up all the juices and flavours which had coalesced on his greasy sheathed knob over the course of the school day.

"That's for me. Very tasty! My compliments to the chef."

He grinned, slightly, as if unsure of how to react, as he watched me stand up. The entire thing took 15 seconds, if that - he didn't even know it was happening before it was over. I left him to return his organs to his jeans, and started back to the road.

"I'll speak to my sister about you," I shouted back at him. "Tell her what a good sport you are. Yeah, you're alright, Stevsie. A pretty good fuck, I imagine. I was certainly impressed, at least! I'll let you know what she says tomorrow at college. Oh, and sort your boxers out, mate - you'll do yourself a mischief if you walk around like that with a hardon."

I made my way home with the taste of Steve's slimy sexual residue still on my lips and tongue; the stuff his big beefy body made so he could moisten up the vaginas he bore into, and here it was sloshing around my gob. I got quite a kick from that.

For once I was now looking forward to college. It meant pushing ahead with the next part of my plan; and I still had so much more of the gym-rat's big tight body to explore!
#2
[account deactivated]
#3
Post rating: ~
I am, I'm also a transracial transgender unemployed otherkin black female.

I think Rhizzone would be more useful if it helped fix the critical shortage of gay porn sites on the internet.
#4
[account deactivated]
#5
Post rating: ~
Roseweird why do gay and lesbian couples often have a "butch"/"femme" setup? Why do even queer couples try to recreate patriarchy? Don't just say "social programming".
#6
[account deactivated]
#7
Post rating: ~

that doesn't happen very often , and that's a stupid , gross, and rude question



Actually its fairly common, like 25-50% of couples, and it's more common among minorities and lesbians than among white gays. I know more about being gay than you and find your comment dismissive and priviledged.

#8
[account deactivated]
#9
Post rating: ~
I'm not even trolling, I'm just curious what you would do if butch/femme couples still existed in rosetopia.
#10
Not Your S.H.I.E.L.D.
Post rating: ~

Lucille posted:

Roseweird why do gay and lesbian couples often have a "butch"/"femme" setup? Why do even queer couples try to recreate patriarchy? Don't just say "social programming".



Duality is the fundamental condition of all existing reality

#11
political car tune
Post rating: ~
introduces concept of "spectrum" to mustang.

"you, in fact are on a spectrum all of your own....



the autism spectrum"

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