Chapter 49

You dragged him to a nearby phonebox, just for some vague sense of shelter. The walls were clear perspex, bathed in the mouldy yellow light of street lamps… but at least there was enough graffiti and flyers pasted across them to obscure some view of the interior. It was a grimy, claustrophobically tight space, which only drove you to cling even tighter to the femboy angel you had dragged in with you. A thousand dirty messages and declarations of love had been scratched into every surface available, but your eyes caught one almost immediately: It recommended a certain tool shop and gave precise instructions on how to order up 'the tightest boipussy around'. A strange pride lit up in your chest to be so publicly reviewed and advertised. It drove you yet further into the whirlwind of your own horniness.

You pulled up on Terry's microskirt and down upon the silken panties beneath, dropping them to tangle around his knocking-together knees far below. Your own matching outfit received similar treatment as the aching erection you had been desperately hiding was finally released from its effeminate prison. You ran hands across his smooth, bubbling rear and reached around to find a similar staff waiting… swollen by the thought of what you were about to do to him. One finger slipped up inside the teen, just to check his readiness. A twitch in his cock and moan in your ear told you all you needed to know, the taller sissy simply needed you inside him, here and now.

The embrace of his rectum was a soft grasp of warm welcome. You could immediately feel the presence of other men’s leavings, and the adjustments Terry’s body had made to accommodate much bigger tools than yours. Still, his eagerness to absorb you completely was physical and apparent. His slim body sucked you in to the hilt, craving every centimetre of love you could offer. In some ways it felt so strange… to be the wrong side of this equation, but doing it with your veritable apprentice in sluttery sent everything topsy turvy. It was almost as if you were fucking yourself, in a way… the scantily dressed mirror of all you had become. That was what drove you mad with lust, watching the gradual corruption of this beautiful boy: the chance to masturbate over your own identical fall from grace, from a different angle. You loved what you both had become… as much as it worried you you shouldn’t. Sex and shame and sucking cock were all that interested you, anymore. Terry was just a doll that you could play with too, even as you were for the others.

The taller femboy pressed his hands against the cold, smearing perspex. The hot breath pouring from both of you condensating on every surface. You could feel the leftover liquids from Skeg and Rod and Dave, sloshing around your own flesh with each thrust inside him… Along with the occasional drip still escaping down your own thighs from all this exertion. It gave the sense that you were all still trapped in that endless orgy, wherever you might go. There was no escaping what they’d left in you, what they’d made of you. Even out here together… you were both just property of others. Terry’s girlish moans reverberated around the enclosed space, making you feel like you were screwing a whole choir of shapely femboys. Your hand remained gripped upon his own shaft, echoing the movements inside him. With every twitch and throb, you could tell just how excited it made him. Just how long he had been aching to experience this connection with you once more. The boy-made-whore adored having you buried in his deepest trenches, and would wait patiently for a thousand years… pleasuring every stranger who came along… just to get another chance to feel that.

Outside, more car lights flashed past… once, twice, maybe three times. Perhaps it was the same pervert driver able to see far more than you realised and crawling along at the view for as long as he could. It didn’t matter. You were beyond caring what others thought of this wholly unsuitable scene. You were hot, sweaty and delirious with the grimy thrill of it all. You could feel your mascara beginning to run down from the corner of one eye, but simply could not stop pumping. Thrusting into the centre of the schoolboy you’d stolen from civilised society. Ready to fill his bowels with yet another sticky fountain of raw, unfiltered lust. Ready to drag his hips just that little bit closer to yours and pull him further down into your world…