Susie's Response 6

By NAMB

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This story is intended for adults only. It contains depictions of forced nudity, spanking, and/or sexual activity of preteen and young teen children. This is fantasy, and the author in no way endorses or practices these things on real life. If you are not of legal age in your community to read or view such material, please leave now.
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[Friday]

I awoke the next morning feeling totally refreshed as if I were the one who had her body brought up and down the elevator of feminine bliss. I gave Michelle a gentle kiss on the back of her neck. I let her sleep. I knew that she must have been exhausted from the workout I gave her the last night.

I put on a top and shorts and went down to breakfast. Mom asked, “Where’s Michelle?”

“Still sleeping.”

“Well, I’m glad to see you girls hitting it off so well together. After all, you hadn’t seen each other for a couple of years, and yet you picked up your friendship like you had just parted yesterday.”

“Mom, it’s kind of easy to keep up with people nowadays with social media. She’s kept me up with what’s happening in her life and I’ve kept her informed of what’s going on in mine. She’s almost like a sister to me. I share everything with her.”

Mom blushed. I’m pretty sure she got what “everything” meant.

“Well, that’s nice. Michelle is a very mature and trustworthy girl. I’m glad you have someone you can confide in. Be careful with whom you share secrets. Not everyone’s mom is as liberal and understanding as I am.”

This was as close to the topic of my domination of my brother as mom was willing to get.

“And there is one more thing,” mom said.

“What’s that?”

“You girls need to be more quiet at bedtime.”

It was my turn to blush. “OK, mom.” I managed to say.

By this time, Stephen was finished with my order and served me.

“Come join us,” mom urged. “You can resume your duties when Michelle comes down.”

Michelle did come down about 15 minutes later and my brother interrupted his breakfast to take her order and cook it.

MD and I were still enjoying our breakfasts when mom left. My brother was naked a minute later and we watched as he cleaned up the kitchen.

“Stephen,” I said, “how would you like to be part of an experiment?”

“What kind of an experiment?”

“A fun kind.

Here is how it works. You get naked – oops, you already are.

And you go up to your room. Michelle and I will remote a keyboard mouse and monitor in there and you get to look at pictures.”

“That’s it?”

“Pretty much so. We have the pictures you’ll be looking at. You can look at them as long as you want and go back and forth as much as you’d like.”

“And?”

“And that’s it. It should be fun for you. Relax and enjoy it.”

While Stephen was doing his morning chores, MD and I made the arrangements. We had to move my desk into the hall and his desk almost to the door to get the cabling to work out. He could still close the door to his room which is what we wanted. He needed privacy or at least the illusion of it. He obviously could see we were up to something and might have even noticed the camera taped to the bottom of his desktop.

He came upstairs. I undid his chastity device. I pointed to his room. “Go in there and browse the pictures MD and I provided. Close the door. Enjoy yourself, but not too much, if you know what I mean.” I ended giggling.

Michelle and I sat at our monitor. On one window was a picture of a landscape which is what Stephen was seeing on his monitor. On the other we could see his crotch as he sat in front of his screen.

The pictures started to change as he operated his mouse. At first they were very neutral: landscapes, kittens, puppies, sports scenes, etc.

As he went through them they started to show people: clothed men and women in everyday activities. Eventually he got to the clothing catalogs which featured mostly women and girls in various outfits and the outfits themselves without the models wearing them.

One thing we did note is that he spent a lot of time looking at girls in their clothes rather than women in their clothes even though the women were better developed. It seems he was more interested in girls closer to his own age. What they wore was seemingly unimportant although the bathing suit pictures and pictures of young girls in training bras and panties seemed to be a favorite of his.

We went on through group after group of pictures with each group getting more explicit. Towards the end of the experiment, the pictures were very explicit and featured various sexual acts including BDSM.

While he was looking at the pictures, we were looking at the state of his penis. It was never really flaccid; it just varied between hard and very hard. Occasionally a drop of precum appeared and he wiped it away with a tissue. We really appreciated this since we could more easily see when a picture aroused him enough to leak.

I can imagine teenaged boys everywhere looking at pictures like these but jerking off instead.

Michelle and I agreed that this was a very crude copy of the experiments conducted by Dr. Miller. They had blood pressure sensors on the men’s penises and software that timed how long each picture was on the screen and counted how often the men went back to look at them.

It was rather difficult to interpret the results. He seemed to have a preference for younger girls approximately the same age as Michelle and me. This was difficult to measure since catalogs tend to show infants and toddlers, young school girls through about middle school and then skip over teens and go directly to adult women.

Bras and panties didn’t seem to impress him that much but bathing suits that revealed even less did. In fact he seemed to be most impressed by “skater girl” outfits: tops, very short cutoffs and sneakers, particularly Vans sneakers. To add to the confusion, we got most of these from social media sites and they were the few pictures of teen girls that we had.

I always thought that cutting jeans down to the point where the pockets show looked funny, but if it’s what boys – well, at least one boy – want, then I have a pair I can donate to the cause.

As for activities, normal sex acts kept him hard, but he did drip watching men perform cunninglingus on women and was especially “impressed” by pictures of women pulling down men’s pants in preparation for spanking them. The whole Clothed Female, Naked Male thing was a big fetish for him.

He did spend a lot of time looking at the pegging pictures and went back to several of them.

Leather, naked women, high heels, fetish gear, bondage and acts more violent than an over-the-knee, hand spanking didn’t seem to hold his interest. He was less hard, didn’t drip as much when looking at the pictures and didn’t spend a lot of time looking at them.

We told him he could pick any 5 pictures and that we’d print them out and I would allow him to masturbate to them one at a time over the future. His selections didn’t surprise us.

I was pleased with the results. It seemed that most of these fetish items or activities were within my grasp. I had the tops and shorts similar to the girls in the pictures.

“I should have bought a pair of Vans when you bought yours,” MD lamented. “I have a pair at home, but I didn’t bring them with me. I didn’t anticipate a need for them.”

“A trip to the mall will fix that,” I said. “At least we wouldn’t have to look for some place to buy a leather corset or thigh-high stiletto heeled boots, even if we could afford them.”

One of the pictures my brother selected was of a woman pegging a man.

“What’s with that?” Michelle asked. “I mean it looks really cool, but why would a guy want to let a woman do that to him. Look at the size of his penis; he must really like it.”

“I think it’s kind of a role reversal,” I said, recalling a section of Dr. Miller’s book. “Normally the man penetrates the woman. With this activity, it’s the other way around. The man feels open and vulnerable as she ‘takes’ him.

I think it works on the same principle as bondage; some men like being the passive playtoy of a woman and some women like that total control they have over a man. It’s kind of like playing with a doll. The doll is defenseless and can’t do anything you don’t want it to do.

Don’t you like being in control of Stephen?”

“Of course I do although with us it seems to be more a participatory thing. He does what we tell him to do, but he does it on his own.”

“I kind of prefer it that way myself. I think it’s more fun to make a boy humiliate himself than to humiliate him if you know what I mean.”

“I do, although I’d like it sometime if we tied him up.”

“We can try that sometime. I’m glad he’s open to the idea of pegging. The only problem is I don’t have a dildo. It’s not exactly the kind of thing you can find in one of the stores at the mall.

I’d have to order it on line like mom and I did with his chastity device. So even if I had the money, we’d have to use her credit card and she would have to place the order.

I was all I could do to get her to buy the chastity device. However, that turned out to be a good idea. At least it’s not harming him and I’ve been able to argue that it’s really helping me train him.

So I’ll have to plan ‘Operation Pin the Tail on the Donkey’ and convince mom to buy me a strap-on like she’s wearing,” I said pointing to the picture. “I’ll have to go slow with mom and be careful. I don’t want to spook her with too much too fast.”

We had Stephen help us move all the computer equipment back where it belonged, and then Michelle and I got dressed for the pool. Now that we knew about my brother’s preference for young girls in bathing suits we needed to confirm it.

I added my Vans sneakers to my outfit instead of my flip-flops. It didn’t look right to me and it felt funny with the bulky shoes on my feet while wearing a skimpy swim suit, but judging how much Stephen looked my feet instead of the rest of our bodies and how hard he got while doing it, I figured that myth was confirmed.

We decided to let him masturbate before mom got home. We did it downstairs in the playroom.

MD and I sat on the couch with our feet propped up on the table: me wearing my Vans and she wearing her flip-flops showing very sexy feet. We placed one of his selected pictures – a skater girl - on the table between us. His eyes were focused on the picture, but they also wandered to his left where my Vans clad feet were propped up prominently. MD’s sexy feet also got his attention, but not as much.

It’s odd. I guess this is one of those fetishes that makes no sense. Boys wear Vans sneakers too. Maybe there is more to fetishes than I know. Perhaps it’s a combination of things like not only what you wear, but the fact that it’s a girl wearing it that gives an item its power. Somehow, by being in contact with a girl, the object becomes consecrated.

He came with a very long and powerful ejaculation.

“Wow!” Michelle observed, “I guess fetish objects do intensify the sexual experience for boys. That’s a lot better than he did the other night.”

“It’s a lot better than he does most nights,” I said. “We’re going to have to investigate this fetish thing some more.

What’s nice about it is that it’s so easy for us girls to do: we just have to wear whatever turns the boys on. I wonder how common Stephen’s fetishes are and how many other boys we make hard without even knowing it.”

“I have to keep that in mind,” she giggled.

After my brother cleaned up and I put him back into his cage, I told MD, “You know there’s a lot more experimentation we need to do. That was one of his best cums yet. I wonder how much cum he squirted and how far he shot it. He was kneeling, he was at least arm’s length from the coffee table, and still the first couple of shots went completely over the table and almost hit the couch. I bet if he were standing he could shoot it 6 feet or more.”

“Maybe the next time we have him stand with his back against the wall and stand by ready with a tape measure.”

I laughed, “Yeah, and we can mark the place on the floor where it splatters and put the date next to it. It would be sort of like those marks on the door post that indicate how tall we were at various ages except that it would be a horizontal record instead of a vertical one.”

“So much for distance. How can we measure how much he cums?”

“I suppose that we can have him wear a condom and somehow measure that.”

“Where can we get one?”

“Almost anywhere, drug store; even the supermarket.”

“I’m not going to buy them.”

“Neither am I. Look, my brother is 16, he can buy them. Nobody is going to ask any questions. They’ll just assume that like most boys, he’s buying them to keep one in his wallet to impress his friends.

Come on, let’s put the stuff back. Mom will be home soon.”

-=o=-

Mom took us out for pizza that evening and it gave me a chance to look around at boys in their natural element. I could see the way they looked at girls, and noted that boobs were an attraction (no surprise there) but also noticed boys looking at girls’ rear ends and feet as well.

I laughed silently as I watched some of them attempting to cope with an unwanted erection. Even in a normal pair of pants, there’s a pronounced tenting. Some boys even tried to surreptitiously tuck their woodies into a corner of their underwear. That changed it from a tent to a pretty accurate outline. Watching them do this brought my thoughts back to the pool last summer where a boy was wearing a speedo and it showed *everything*.

Of course, I had to lean over and cup my hand over MD’s ear to whisper in and point out my sightings to her. “Look at the boy at the counter in the green shirt. He’s got a bad case of the stiffies.”

She whispered back, “Yeah, I saw him. Light colored pants show off an erection better than dark. Don’t you agree?”

I nodded and she kept whispering, “Did you catch the man with the Hawaiian shirt?”

I nodded again, “He was an old guy and he was looking at those girls at the birthday party. They look even younger than us.”

I whispered back, “Dr. Miller mentions that. I know I can make boys my age hard and now that I know more about that, I’m going to keep on doing it. But she warns that we girls can even turn on grown men.

I’m sure those girls at the party weren’t even trying, yet he popped a boner for them.

Dr. Miller says that we have to be careful not to lead grown men on because it can be dangerous. She says it should be enough to know that maybe as many as one in ten men who see us during the day go home and masturbate just thinking about us. Take pleasure in that and move on.”

We got home from the pizza place and lounged around watching TV. MD and I wore more revealing pajamas without fear. Stephen might be thinking about us when he went to bed, but he wouldn’t be jerking off to the thoughts. I decided to keep him locked up. One cum a day is more than enough for him.

Michelle and I retired to our room where we kissed each other goodnight as we learned to do that first evening. Soon we were both naked and I enjoyed the sensation of her body’s flesh totally in contact with mine with not so much as the thin wisp of a silky pantie between us.

I wanted so much to share my femininity with her as only another girl could understand it. My dominant nature took over and I led her to her bed. I lay on top of her first kissing her lips and then nibbling on her ears, probing them with my tongue and licking behind the lobes.

I worked my tongue down her neck and to her shoulders, lingering there only a while before continuing my journey to her breasts. Taking one, I outlined it with my tongue, swirling slowly in towards the nipple. I wrapped my lips around it and flicked at it with my tongue. It was hard and erect.

I could feel my own nipples hardening in response to the sexual energy that was now surging in my body. I worshiped her breast for what seemed like half an eternity and left it to worship the other one for the other half of eternity.

For once I wished that I was some sort of two-headed monster so I could worship both at once.

Although Michelle lay there, seemingly passive, I could feel the subtle trembling in her body. There was a building tension and pressure deep within her like the stresses that build up just before an earthquake. I could sense the sexual joy she was experiencing. It was a chain reaction, and exchange of energies. The more excited she got, the more excited I got and the more passionately I went about pleasuring her.

This is what Dr. Miller pointed out as the difference between male and female sexuality. A boy would be blind to the light of feminine joy she exuded from her body. He’d fail to pick up on the sensuality flowing from her body and rather than use that to intensify his own desires, he’d rush on selfishly towards his own pleasure.

But I am not a boy. I am a girl and this means I could feel her inner warmth and better still, unlike a boy, I know what girls like. I am one with Michelle. What she feels I feel and maybe even stronger. It was my duty to pleasure her, and it was a duty I enjoyed doing. I lost myself in the act and we both floated on the same cloud of sensuous pleasure: she as the passive recipient and I as the doer.

Poor are the girls who never know what other girls can do for them. Poor are all boys; who will never know the full joy of what pleasing a girl can bring. The best we can do for them is train them to be like my brother.

With my mind in a haze I reluctantly left her breast and kept moving down. I startled her as my tongue probed her navel. It awakened her enough to even giggle.

I lingered there only a while to move on to the climax. I had seen Michelle before but never this closely. I could see every detail every fine hair and it all seemed to fit in some kind of beauty.

Boys have penises, and although fun to look at and play with, are ugly. They hang out there exposed for all the world to see. Worse yet are the balls that peek out from behind them. Mother Nature has taken a boy’s most vulnerable parts and put them on display and in harm’s way.

Not so with girls. We are sheltered and protected with appealing folds to hide the treasures within. There is something almost religious about it. Boys desecrate the temple using their penises as battering rams to break down the doors of the tabernacle. Girls know better. We don’t barge in crudely, but rather with respect and reverence we enter.

Once again, I was kissing Michelle’s lips: this time in another place in anticipation of meeting another kind of tongue within. As I traced my tongue gently around the doorway I came to rest at the threshold and there drank of her body.

It was a sweetness of body and soul. This was Michelle at her most feminine and I was tasting her: taking her into my own body; making her part of myself. It was a communion of girlness

Only when I had sufficiently prepared myself did I dare enter. Slowly at first, but then deeply. My body’s concentration changed. Despite all the pleasure flowing in me, in defiance of the cloud shrouding my mind, my focus became my tongue. It was as if all energy and all sensitivity were directed at its tip.

And then it met Michelle’s tip, the focus of all her energy and sensitivity.

We touched tip-to-tip for an exquisite moment, and then I moved off to explore it from tip to base, and every side between: sometimes brushing up and down its length; other times spiraling in and out around the shaft.

This was the slipping of the fault, when the release of the pent-up energy was about to erupt to the surface. I could feel the tenseness and the quivering increase. I had taken her to the edge. of her sexual endurance It was time to push her over.

The time for subtlety was over; time for decisive action had arrived. I took her within my lips and made love as only a girl could know how to make love. It was like intercourse, only her clitoris was the penis and my lips the vagina.

Her body became as rigid as stone and then collapsed. It hardened again and collapsed. I inflicted wave after wave of pleasure on her until exhaustion took us both.

I withdrew and dragged myself up onto her semi-conscious frame. In her wild abandon, she had used the edge of her blanket as a gag to keep the whole house from knowing what was going on.

I embraced her. We fell asleep in each other’s arms. I could feel her fire still glowing. My fire was still burning brightly, but it would have to wait. I didn’t have the strength to lay so much as a finger upon myself.

(End of File)