Epilogue 3

It was a sweltering summer afternoon. Samuel's air conditioner had seen better days, and even on full blast he could still not bear to wear more than some swimming trunks and a pair of flip-flops.

Ring!

The doorbell. He ignored it. He expected no guests, and he was far too hot to deal with Jehovah's Witnesses or door-to-door salespeople.

Riiiing!

He sighed and went to open the door... and was only slightly surprised to find Wesley standing in front of him, eyes down, cheeks aglow. He was wearing a long blue raincoat that was totally at odds with the hot weather.

In fact, he wasn't just wearing it: he held it wrapped tightly around him. A light went on in Samuel's head.

"Show me, bitch boy."

A moan escaped from the boy's lips and he opened the coat. Underneath, he was wearing a red-and-white cheerleading outfit that was clearly a size too small for him. The top was wrapped tightly around his flat torso, and the pleated skirt stopped well short of mid-thigh.

Wesley swallowed hard and with a **** of will he met Samuel's gaze. Unbidden, he lifted the front of his skirt, revealing that he wasn't wearing anything underneath. And that his little cocklet was already agonizingly erect.

"P-please, sir. I'm a faggot slut and I need to be fucked. I'll do anything! Make me **** on your big cock and feed me your cum. T-then **** my tight butt hole until I scream for mercy. I'm j-just a dumb, horny fuck-toy, and I want you to use my body for your pleasure."

It had the sound of a rehearsed speech, but Samuel didn't mind at all. He was already conjuring up images of all the twisted, filthy things he'd do to the submissive little faggot. He grinned wolfishly. "Get in, slut!"

It was going to be a sweaty day after all.