Sustained frustration

Jesse heard the vaguely muffled sounds of thumping and arguing as he approached the door… hardly an irregular feature of George and Cynthia’s living space. Sometimes it meant Cyn had caught her roommate/lover sleeping with someone else down the hallway again. Sometimes it meant he had caught word of her being particularly awful to one of his friends for no apparent reason. Either way it usually just resulted in the two of them knocking boots in a particularly furious and passionate fashion for a bit. Their entire relationship seemed to be built on turmoil and presumably enough-to-make-it-worthwhile makeup sex.

Early on… timid, gentle Jesse would spend up to an hour nervously waiting in the corridor for what seemed like an appropriately quiet moment to politely knock on the door. Until various passing neighbours had pointed out to him that the pair rarely bothered to lock it anyway… and were more likely to get through the process quicker if he was present. Constant bickering was just how the beautiful couple related with each other. There wasn’t really any maliciousness or deeper grudge-holding to it, and it didn’t embarrass them to be seen doing it… or seen making amends afterwards, for that matter…

Many, many times by now… the shy, little femboy had had to sit awkwardly in a corner while the other two teens slammed their bodies together like thunderclouds against a storm-wracked sky. It was becoming obvious that at least Cynthia secretly enjoyed an audience; just another way to assert her authority in the block as being the one true berthing for the most sought-after penis around. It was also all part of her teasing dominance over Jesse in particular, which hadn’t subsided at all through this now educational form of their massage sessions. She loved to stare him down as she bucked and sweated, gasping and moaning from the heavy slaps of a real man entering her. Showing off her magnificently-toned body in arch-backed majesty as she climaxed and received yet another bellyful of hot, sticky delights. Then lying back and ordering her ‘student’ to get straight to work soothing her aching muscles, the scent of sweat and sex mixing in with that of today’s selection of massage oils and whatever fluids were now slowly dribbling out of her.

Jesse was not exactly proud of how all that heady mix affected him… but couldn’t begin to deny how much it did: Watching these two veritable gods or royalty of teenage passion entwining in front of him. Both nearly twice his height and far, far more muscular. Then being called to order like a **** in ancient kingdoms, to clean up the messes they had made of each other. Running his cool hands across skin still scorching. Feeling the thump of another’s heartbeat still racing from orgasm. It sent him into a mewling mental state of submissive admiration. Made him feel lucky to just be so ancillarily involved. He felt utterly ashamed… to look up through the fork in Cynthia’s legs at her wickedly smirking eyes. To lap up and suck out a taste of what kind, friendly George had left in her… and know she knew how much even that secondhand-serving meant.

It had been obvious from the start that that oh-so-jealous guardian was well-aware what the visiting sissy’s little heart actually beat for. Leftover desires from years of boisterous playground games, back when all the now-obvious femme in the boy was still being repressed. The more Jesse opened up into his new, clear vision of himself the more those… missed opportunities seemed to prey on him. All those strong, overshadowing forms which he had regularly rubbed up against… without properly appreciating the experience. If only he’d known Ms Julian’s 7 secret techniques to bend over and wiggle one’s bottom alluringly back then. If only the algorithm had elected to put him in this room with it’s now bruised and battered mattresses…

They were guilty thoughts… all of them. And ones he knew were not thought through. Without Betsy, he would not be who he was. Past him would never have accepted what present him now revelled in. But, somehow… Cynthia drew out those sordid, little dreams… and both encouraged and belittled them all at once. That was why he wriggled with anticipation for this session, once a week. Because she was not a nice person… so he felt free to be a little less perfect himself.