Date: Wed, 19 Sep 2007 21:52:32 -0700 (PDT) From: Chick Grope Subject: My husband and his boiz Part 1 You want to hear the whole thing from a woman's point of view? Of course you don't. But, listen, I procured young boys for my hubby over a period of ten years, so I know what the fuck it is all about. Let me qualify that. Why guys prefer a boy's tight little asshole to a woman's well-lubricated vulva is something I cannot begin to understand. At the same time, I realised that if I was going to hold my marriage together, I had to indulge my husband's weird fantasies. OK, the biopic stuff and then we can get on with the story. My name is Marca, my husband is Pierre, and we live in the Provencal part of France. When we first married, he was in me every chance he got, but slowly his enthusiasm waned. (So had mine: I had discovered the sapphic delights of "tipping the velvet" with my neighbour, Michelle. What a horny bitch! Lesbian? Don't attach labels: she was just one mega-sexual itch). And then, one vinous evening, the after-dinner conversation on our patio took a turn that amazed me. "How's Michelle?" "Fine, I guess. Why?" "Oh, you know, burden of motherhood, etc..." "Hell, Jeannot is hardly a burden, he's a lovely child!" "How old is he now?" "Nine and something. Ten in November, I think." Pause. "Pretty boy." "What?" "Nothing, I just thought he was old enough to find out about himself." "Find out about himself?" "You know. At� his age, I was already masturbating." "Well, in your case, nothing has changed," I said sarcastically. "Do you think he wanks?" "How the fuck should I know?" "Invite him round and let's find out." And that was the first inkling I had that my cock-toting macho husband, Pierre, had the hots for little boys. Part 2 In fact, although I wasn't going to say so to Pierre, I thought that my neighbour Michelle's son Jeannot was indeed a "pretty boy", long dark hair that was almost falling into ringlets contrasting with a surprisingly pale skin. He had one of those cupid's-bow mouths that always startle you because they are the kind of full lips that you expect only to see on a girl. He was friendly, polite and always eager to please. I really liked him. Not sexually, of course, although I instinctively flirted with him, offering him glimpses of my boobs and once of my pussy when my bathrobe "accidentally" fell open. No, definitely not sexually; it's just that I am a natural prickteaser, I guess, and I was glad to see positively he reacted. And then, out of the blue, my husband asked me to invite Jeannot round to find out if had started masturbating! I knew that luring Jeannot would not be a problem - he would come running, sniffing like an eager puppy at the first whiff of my "assets". But how to proceed after that, how to seduce him, was going to be a challenge. Especially as there were TWO seducer's: me and my would-be pedo husband. Another chat a couple of days after he first broached the subject confirmed what he was after. "Did you invite Jeannot round yet?" "Not yet. Anyway, what on earth do you want to find out about his masturbatory habits for?" "The sexuality of pubescent boys has always fascinated me." "Pubescent? The kid's barely 10! What sexuality?" I refrained from mentioning the boy's eagerness to glimpse my breasts or look up my skirt. "A technicality," Pierre said dismissively. "Boys are horny little beasts. Like male dogs, sniffing and mounting anything that arouses them." "Mounting?! For goodness' sake, you're not suggesting that sweet little boy is into fucking yet?" Pierre laughed. "Probably dry-fucks his pillow. I did at his age." "Oh ok, I guess you being a man know best. But I still don't see what your interest is in a ten-year old boy." "He's very pretty." "Yes, you said." "I love his mouth. So sensual. And those ringlets. Mmmm. And...." His voice trailed off. "And?" "And he has such a lovely round plump bottom," Pierre concluded, breathlessly. A movement of his hand caught my eye. He was caressing himself through his pants! A felt a sudden surge of anger. "Don't tell me you're getting a hard on thinking about a young boy's 'cul'!" (cul = arse/ass in French) "As a matter of fact, yes," Pierre replied calmly. "Et tu veux l'enculer???" (and you want to bumfuck him? (enculer is from cul)). "That would be nice...," he said, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. "You are disgusting!" "No, merely honest." "But it's... it's....." - I couldn't find a strong enough word to express my disgust - "....unnatural." "Au contraire, ma cherie, On the contrary, my love, it's the most natural thing in the world. There is a long and glorious history of men's love for boys. The Greeks, for instance...." "Fuck the Greeks!" "Well, yes, dear, at least if they are young boys as delicious as our Jeannot." I sat fuming, unable to speak. Finally, as I thought more about it, I started to calm down. Pierre poured another couple of drinks for us and continued. "You remember the stories about the Tuareg when we were in Tunisia?" "What have they got to do with......." - and then I suddenly remembered. Apparently, it was the custom for a Tuareg man to have a boy lover, adopting one as early as 5 or 6 and training him in the arts of lovemaking. When the boy reached adolescence, he was deemed to be a man and would in turn find a very young boy to be his catamite, and so the process was repeated endlessly. In fact the only sexual contact a man had with a woman was for the purposes of procreation; otherwise he had no sexual interest in women. I turned to Pierre. I was calm now. "So, you want little Jeannot to be your catamite, your boy lover?" "That would be nice." "God, you men are pigs, all of you!" "True, my dear. It always amazes me that any woman should want a man. If I were a woman, I would want a woman! Or maybe a young girl!" He laughed. "I would be a gouine (lesbian), my dear Marca!" That struck home. I had already had some very heavy encounters with Michelle, Jeannot's mother, and had to admit I liked the passion that exploded between us. "That's silly," I said, but without conviction. I couldn't keep the giggle out of my voice. "So, dear wife, will you invite our young friend round, and let's see what happens?" "You want me to lure him into this house so you can fuck him?" "Oh, darling, let's not be so crude. Let's just say that the three of us - you and I and the boy - can explore certain possibilities." "That's what I said: you want me to lure him into this house so you can fuck him." "It may take time, Marca, we don't want to scare him off, do we?" My antipathy to the idea had gradually softened as a growing curiosity took hold of me. I tried to visualise watching my husband impaling a boy on his cock, and at once felt a tingle. God, the idea was beginning to turn me on! "OK, you win, I will invite the boy round." "Good. You are a good woman, Marca. And now, if you don't mind, I need to jack off. All this talk of buggering little boys has got me so fuckng horny...." I felt excluded. "Sure I can't help with that, Pierre?" "Not really, dear. Think of me as your house Tuareg." It was at that moment that I realised my husband's true sexual orientation. And I was going to help him fulfil his desires. Part 3 Pierre was right when he said "It may take time." I soon learned that you can't rush the seduction of a young boy, not even one as enthusiastic as Jeannot. We had him round to the house a few times, mostly on hot weekend afternoons when we could all swim and sunbathe. He loved the water games, which of course gave us many opportunities for "innocent" bodily contact. I particularly enjoyed holding him against me so he could feel the full benefit of my breasts, while I could discern the outline of his little bundle against me. It was on one such occasion that I felt him getting hard. "Come on, let's get out of the pool and go have a lemonade," I said brightly. Pierre looked perplexed but I made a sign with my head, nodding down towards the boy's crotch. Pierre nodded. Soon we were sitting on our sunchairs by the edge of the pool. I glanced down at Jeannot's bundle, clearly outlined under his swimming trunks. Pierre of course by this time was getting a hard on just in anticipation. I stretched back languorously, my arms outstretched, my legs apart. Jeannot watched out of the corner of his eye. He was definitely hooked on my "charms", poor boy. Throwing caution to the winds, I took off my bikini, loving the feel of cool air on my breasts and pussy. Jeannot simply gawped. "She's beautiful, isn't she, Jeannot?" Pierre said suddenly. The boy blushed but did not reply. "Hush, Pierre, you're embarrassing the boy!" I reached across and rested the palm of my hand on the boy's thigh, high up. "Don't take any notice of him, Jeannot," I said. "He's only jealous cos he saw you and me cuddling in the water." The boy looked at me dumbstruck. "Wh-what?" "Well, we WERE cuddling, weren't we, darling?" I said huskily. "I...er...." I allowed my hand to inch higher up his thigh, millimetres from his crotch. "Well, I thought it was cuddling, and I liked it. Didn't you?" He felt the heat of my palm against his skin. I discerned a spasm under his trunks. He was getting an erection.... "Oh come here, silly boy, and give Auntie Marca a cuddle!" So saying, I pulled him on to me, and held him tight. His face was pressed into my boobs, and his penis was against my crotch. "Mmm, that's nice!" I crooned. � I winked at Pierre "Sorry, Pierre, but I have got a new boyfriend!" "That's ok, dear, I know how you like boys." I slid my hand over Jeannot's lovely bubble butt and pressed him to me. I could feel his stiffness now pushing into me. "My my, what a big boy you are, darling." Pierre by this time had his cock out and was masturbating gently as he watched the unfolding scene. I pulled Jeannot up and whispered something to him. "No!" There was indignation but not conviction in his voice. "Just for me, pretty please," I said in a wheedling voice, "It would make Auntie Marca SO happy." I slid my hand inside his swimming trunks and let my fingers play over his hard penis. He really was big for his age. "There, that wasn't so terrible, was it, darling?"� I murmured. "My, you really ARE a big boy!" Jeannot was starting to tremble. I held his penis lovingly and gave it a few caressing strokes. "Tell me, Jeannot, would you like to....?" I whispered the rest of the sentence in his ear. Without waiting for his reply, I stripped off his trunks, and then reached down to guide his lovely three inches of stiff love-muscle into me. The boy was naturally shy, but his lust overwhelmed him and I could feel him thrusting into me with a clumsiness that I found endearing. "Let me help you, dear boy." It was Pierre who had come to kneel between my feet. I could see his cock sticking out stiffly and juddering as he looked at Jeannot's butt, two pale globes contrasting with his suntanned body. Pierre put his hands lovingly on those gorgeous globes and leant forward to bury his nose between them. I felt Jeannot jerk up as Pierre's tongue began to rim the boy's pucker. "It's all right, Jeannot," I whispered reassuringly, "He has a right to share, dearest, after all you have your cock in his wife's pussy!" The boy seemed reassured. At any rate he wriggled and squirmed but with pleasure, not to avoid Pierre's invading tongue. "Hold very still, darling," I murmured. "We want the fun to last. I love your cock in me like this." He nodded, too breathless to speak. "Very still." Suddenly, he jerked up again, his eyes wide with something like fear. Pierre had inserted his finger into the boy and was working it inside the boy's anus. "It's all right, Jeannot." I lowered my voice conspiratorially. "He does it to me too, and I really like it." Again, that seemed to relax him. Each time that Pierre thrust his finger into the boy, I got the benefit as Jeannot's stiffy thrust into me. By this time - and knowing how copiously Pierre's precum flowed - Pierre had lowered himself on to Jeannot and was using his cock like a paintbrush to lubricate the boy's "petit trou d'amour", his "little love hole." Oh god, I thought, surely he's not going to fuck the boy?! But the beast in Pierre was aroused now, and there was no way he would give up the chance to deflower our sweet little boy-from-next-door. "For God's sake, be gentle, Pierre," I hissed. And then to Jeannot: "It's all right, Jeannot, Pierre does that to me all the time, and I love it. I know you will too.:Just be brave, my darling big brave boy." He started to struggle, but I held him firmly, pinning his body against mine so that there was no escape from the hard mancock that was slowly stretching his boypussy. He started to cry out as he felt Pierre driving into him. "Isn't this fun, Jeannot! Your cock is in my woman-pussy, and Pierre's cock is in your boy-pussy!" The cock that was fucking me was now being controlled by Pierre's thrusts, which became progressively rapid and manic as his lust rose to screaming point. Then, as he reached his climax, Pierre pulled up, taking the boy with him impaled on his cock like a stuck pig. I saw a wild look in Jeannot's eyes, his cock was stabbing the air, he was totally overwhelmed by the hard cock pumping spunk into him. At that moment, he too juddered into orgasm, sending jets of his boy-cum over my body. It was a scene that I will never forget. Sated, Pierre finally released the boy, who slumped to the ground, sobbing. I stroked his hair. "There, there, darling, it's all over. You were wonderful. So brave." "It hurt," he said between sobs. "I know, darling, it hurt me the first time too, but you will get to like it, I promise." "He does that to you too?" "Yes, dear." "But why? You've got a .... you know...." He was searching for a word more elegant than "cunt". "He does it because then he can pretend that I am a boy like you." "I don't understand." "You will, boy!" It was Pierre looking down at us and grinning from ear to ear. "It's what boys are for." "Oh hush, Pierre. Enough for one day." I turned to my little boy lover and helped him to his feet. "Now, come on, cheri, and let me clean you up. We can't have you going home to mommy smelling of spunk and cuntjuice!" Envoi I cannot honestly tell you, even after all this time, what I liked or disliked about that encounter. I guess my excitement was mainly in the seduction of our first victim. Certainly his cock inside me meant nothing to me. But maybe it was seeing the glint of pure lust in Pierre's eyes as he reamed that poor boy's love-tunnel. We have all heard about "penis envy" that all women are supposed to suffer from. Well, it's a load of bullshit if you ask me, but I must admit, as I watched my husband pleasuring the boy, I WAS envious: I realised how wonderful it must be to have a hard cock with which to penetrate an endless supply of boipussies. Like the man said, so many boys, so little time! [Comments to gropechick@yahoo.com or visit http://groups.yahoo.com/group/f2mm/]