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Ithanked him, walked nonchalantly to the door, and then tore down thestairs and out the front door. I thought I was going to take a taxi tothe train station, but I soon realized that there were no taxis in thisneighborhood. In any event, I had so much energy that I just startedrunning, and I ran all the way back to the train station. I got on mytrain, and it took everything I had to keep the books in the bag. I wasdying to start reading, to explore this world, to see what other peoplehad to say about girlish boys and their mothers. Mothers who knew about,and encouraged their sons!I tore through those books, reading them every chance I had. Each onewas a gem, an entrance into a magic world. I must have read each book adozen times. Some, like My Son the Bridesmaid, I read so many times thatI probably had it memorized. I loved the gradual, incrementaltransformation of the boy by his mother, in a sweet, secret conspiracywith his sister. First a barrette and pony tail for his. I wanted to grab it and make it pulsate into sweet orgasm, but your pleasure was my pleasure, and I could see that Chris felt the same way, though he could less resist teasing himself now and again.“Chris likes to touch his cock,” I said.“He does that a lot,” you giggled.We finally hurried our way down to your vulva. It felt like it was on fire, but it was soaking wet. It smelled so fresh, tasted to musky, and felt so silky as Chris and I fought with our lips and tongue to give you pleasure. Your hips bucked uncontrollably, and you moaned and breathed in a most stimulating manner, as we did mock battle with our lips and tongues to control your sweet sensations.“Fuck, guys,” you said. “You love me so nicely.”“We do,” said Chris. “Love you, both of us, and that is okay.”“True,” I said.Soon we all knew that you were ready. Any more teasing and you would be over the edge, either sliding down into an intense orgasm, or into declining sensation. You needed a cock, and you needed it now. I.
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