Subject: A kept man in China, part 8 —– Readers: This is a completely fictional multi-part story involving a 25 year old white American man who finds himself at the beck and call of an increasingly confident 14 year old Chinese boy, while he is living and working in China. If you find this subject matter objectionable, please stop reading now. If you enjoy it, I hope you’ll reach out with your thoughts and comments, I am at ail. Finally, please do consider making a donation to Nifty, to support the editors who make this site possible and allow this fiction to be published! —– Hearing Xiaobo speak my name was as shocking as if one of the thunderbolts outside had come through the window and hit me instead. It was the exact antithesis of being walked out on after our encounter in the bathroom, and the effect was just as dramatic on me, but in the opposite sense. The tone in his voice was laden with desire. I knew he wanted me to do what I had been fighting against doing. There was no way at all for me to fight against that now. I returned my gaze to the front of his briefs. The light was dim but I knew full well what was just beneath the clean, tight, white fabric of his briefs. Something inside was swollen, stiff, thick, and jutting off to the right. And I knew that thing was his Chinese boycock. I’d seen it before in the bathroom. I’d even felt it press against mine. Now, it was time to go further… much further. I brought my trembling hands to the waistband and gently slid the tips of my fingers inside. Even that small exploratory act seemed like the aydın escort kind of initiative someone like me would not be allowed to do. I waited with a sense of foreboding to see if this is where he’d draw the line. I could just imagine him telling me to stop and running away, leaving me to start this all over again some later day. Instead, I just heard his heavy, trembling breathing. I gently pulled the waistband out and away from his smooth skin. How amazing that a servant like me was being allowed to remove the clothes of this Chinese boy who, by contract and our shared understanding, was my superior. Again, he didn’t resist. Now I heard a shallow moan punctuate his heavy breathing. I pulled the waistband further out. At that point, the fabric of the briefs could no longer contain the sideways facing member that had grown stiff while being trapped inside, and it swung out to stand straight up, spring loaded by the vigor of his 14 year old body, and accentuated by the genetics that made Chinese dicks so uncommonly stiff in the first place. I instinctively backed away, as if I was afraid to get hit by it, and it passed within inches of my nose. “Oh god,” I moaned in awe to see it up so close. Xiaobo’s cock must have been tickled by the warm breath of my exclamation, because I saw his shaft bob and twitch. Just then, another lightning bolt cut through the sky outside, and the room was lit up by a bright flash. What had been the dull gray outline of his cock momentarily became a crisp, brightly illuminated image that burned into my retinas. I could aydınlıkevler escort enjoy the image of it even after the room fell dark as the lightning bolt spent its energy. The frozen image I saw was the cock of a 14 year old Chinese boy who was thicker, slightly longer, and definitely more powerful than what I had between my legs, and who would undoubtedly grow up to utterly dwarf my American cock. I realized he must have become even more aroused than in the bathroom, because now almost all of his purple glans had emerged from the foreskin. The momentarily brilliant illumination allowed me to take in every detail as if I was looking at a picture. The slight shininess made by precum that had started leaking out of the slit and coating the glans. The veins that laced seductively around the shaft. The way the shaft was slightly thicker at the end than at the base, which only accentuated its power. How ramrod straight it was. The small, neat tuft of jet black pubes at the base. The totally hairless and slightly wrinkled ball sack that was slung underneath, hanging free enough to show the mass of two walnut-sized balls inside. With the image frozen on the back of my eyes, time seemed to slow to a standstill, but my thoughts did not. I was an American man. This was a Chinese boy. He was 14 years old, I was an adult. I knew that what I was tempted to do next was something that could never be undone, even if it never happened again. It was something I had never even imagined, much less tried to do, in all the time I was growing ayrancı escort up in America. Nor had I given it any thought while living and working here in China. Now, in only a matter of days, this boy, the presence of this young Chinese boy, had ignited something in me, and there was utterly no way to fight against it. Without further hesitation, as I knelt between his legs, I moved my face in until my lips touched his shaft, planted a kiss on the precum-slickened glans, then opened my mouth to let it slide in. I was now a pedophile. I was an American pedophile who craved to service young Chinese boys. I was a white man who had yielded to the seductive power of a Chinese boy and offered him not just my lips but my identity. For him, and him alone, I had destroyed the person I used to be for 25 years. My new identity as a pedophile penetrated by being just as his Chinese cock penetrated my lips and slipped inch by inch into my mouth. But it had not happened because he forced me to do it. It was my head that was going down on his boycock. It was me that offered to become a pedophile as a way of serving and pleasing and admiring and yielding him. Gone were the days of fooling around with fellow Americans here in Shanghai, of hoping for a relationship with someone who was my peer. It was an instantaneous moment of both conquest and victory. The contract I’d sign might last for five years, but I’d just surrendered to a change that would last the rest of my life. At that point, the thunderclap of the lightning bolt arrived, and rattled the windows powerfully. The loud boom did not seem like the disapproving roar of a vengeful god. I did not feel chastised for my act. Instead, I saw it as the crash made by the destruction of who I had always been constrained to be. I would look back on this event as the moment I found total freedom in China.

Bir cevap yazın

E-posta hesabınız yayımlanmayacak.