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A Weekend With Billy Ch. 1

By: leticialean



I'll never forget the weekend Billy came. He was a friend of a friend, and he had a job interview in London one Monday morning. He needed somewhere to stay on Sunday night. I suggested he come on the Friday and spend the weekend taking in the sights. But the sights he got to see, and the sights I got to see, were not exactly what he'd anticipated.

I'm a normal woman. I love having sex. But I'm also a wicked woman, because I love leering at men. Naked men. Men with erections. Men masturbating. Men coming. Men being spanked. Men pumped and ridden and sucked off and milked by women who are still partially clothed and completely in control. I surf the internet looking for the pictures and videos that leave my panties in ruins and my clitoris spent. Magazines litter my house.

Billy arrived about eight and we had dinner together. Afterwards, I left him in the sitting-room with coffee so that I could load the dishwasher. Although I'd cleared most of the magazines away, I'd deliberately left a few of them strategically placed. Nothing too far out. Shots of hunks in the raw. Nice chests, cute balls, firm asses, the occasional erection. I hoped Billy might flick through them while I was away. I wanted him to know I was okay about sex.

He didn't mention them at the time, but I had a feeling some of them had been moved. And of course, I was subsequently proved right. We chatted for about an hour, and then Billy said he was ready for bed. I showed him to the guest room and told him to make himself at home.

'Feel free to read any of the books or watch TV,' I said.

He thanked me and we said goodnight.

I'd left him plenty to occupy himself with. The latest editions of Penthouse and Men Only. A handful of XXX magazines. Several videos.

I went into the room next to his but didn't switch on the light. I watched him. Yes, I confess it now, wicked woman that I am, my guest room has a two-way mirror. It is vast and cost me a fortune, but it has afforded me numberless hours of pleasure.

I looked at Billy as he settled into his room. He must have been about twenty-two. He was handsome and attractively built, but terribly quiet. Very decent, very proper, endlessly polite. 'A very nice young man,' as my mother would say. Usually the kiss of death as far as I'm concerned. But the thought of seeing this innocent, rather sweet young man disrobing was riveting. I was about thirty-eight at the time, I'd long since seen everything, but nothing beats the frisson of seeing innocence exposed.

And yet men are full of surprises, and Billy was no exception. To my delight, he quickly spotted the magazines, but he merely flicked through Penthouse and Men Only. He quickly abandoned them, and I immediately jumped to the conclusion that he wasn't into porn. How wrong I was! Instead of getting undressed, taking a shower and putting himself to bed as I anticipated, he turned to the hardcore magazines. He selected the 'best' one with evident care and sat on the bed to study it. And yes, he was definitely into it. He looked at each page long and hard, and his hand soon wandered to his crotch. I gasped with joy as he began to fondle himself through his jeans.

Billy continued to pleasure himself for some time, then put down the magazine. He looked at himself in the mirror and stood up. Standing with his feet apart at the foot of the bed, clearly contemplating himself in the mirror, he lifted his T-shirt above his head and tossed it to the floor. He advanced a few steps towards the mirror and stood with his hands on his hips. He turned round and half bent down. He looked under his arm into the mirror, deliciously checking out the contours of his butt. And what contours! Firm and rounded, crammed tightly into his jeans.

He stood up and faced the mirror again. He advanced a few more steps. And then he unzipped his fly and unbuttoned his jeans. He pulled his fly flaps wide open. His penis, already bulging, was nudging against the triangular red pouch of his briefs. Red! Whoever would have believed it? I'd expected some hideously sensible white Y-fronts. But these were no Y-fronts. The pouch was sexily cut.

He turned his back to the mirror and, watching himself over his shoulder, slowly lowered his jeans. Another surprise. Not briefs. A thong! He was wearing a bright red thong! He'd been wearing it on the train down from Manchester! He'd been wearing it when he arrived! He'd been wearing it through dinner and coffee! Sweet Mr. Innocent in a bright red thong! I was stunned.

He fondled his buttocks for a while and then faced the mirror again. He grabbed his penis and balls through the fabric of the pouch. He squeezed and massaged, pinched and stroked. The tip of his penis pulled hard against the pouch, desperate to be released.

Billy pulled the ottoman away from the mirror and turned it short-side on. He sat on the edge facing the mirror and slowly lay down, his feet remaining on the floor. The edge of the ottoman was quite close to the mirror, and I could clearly see the outlines of his penis jutting up inside his pouch. More fondling and kneading ensued, and his prick grew harder and harder.

Suddenly, he stood up and turned his back to the mirror. He straddled the ottoman and sat down on it as if it were a motorbike. He lowered his chest to its padded silk seat. And there he was, prone, gripping the end of the ottoman between his knees, his glorious butt mere inches from my face. He fondled that butt lasciviously. Then he stood up again and, still straddling the ottoman, bent down. I stared at his balls pulled tight in the base of his pouch between his thighs. I feasted my eyes on his naked ass cheeks.

And then came another surprise. Sweet Mr. Innocent grasped both buttocks in the palms of his hands and pulled those buttocks wide apart. The under-strap of his thong was fully exposed. I instantly looked for some hint of anus, and, sure enough, a small area of puckered skin was revealed either side of the under-strap close to the point where it joined the pouch.

Billy pinched and kneaded his buttocks and occasionally massaged himself with the tip of his second finger along the length of the under-strap. He tapped at the fabric that covered his anus then pinched the flesh along his butt cleft quite hard.

I lifted my skirt and slipped my right hand inside my panties. My sex was dripping. I massaged my clitoris with the tip of my second finger, shuddering with the pleasure of it. I slipped my left hand under my blouse and squeezed my breasts through my bra. I pinched my nipples and scratched at them gently through the nylon.

Billy stood up and faced the mirror again. Slowly, he lowered his thong. Inch by inch, his shaft was revealed, until his helmet suddenly sprang free of the pouch and his prick reared up in front of him. Leaving his thong round his thighs, he slowly pulled back his foreskin. His purple helmet glistened.

Staring intently into the mirror, he squeezed his glans and, rapt, watched more pre-cum ooze from the eye. He massaged it into his helmet and squeezed again. A further droplet appeared. He scooped it onto his finger and, deliciously, transferred it to his mouth. He repeated this several times, sucking on his fingertip and swallowing.

He gave his glans one hell of a going-over, pinching it, kneading it, twisting it, cupping it. Then he massaged the cleft and ridges, those most sensitive parts of the penis. He rubbed and tapped and pinched. I looked at his face. His neck and cheeks were flushed. His head was thrown back and his nostrils flared. His face was contorted with pleasure.

He sat down on the ottoman and fully removed his thong. He grabbed his penis in his fist and began to jerk off. Slowly, rhythmically, his hand moved up and down. He seemed to go on for an eternity, pulling away with his right hand, fondling his chest and nipples with his left. I watched, transfixed. His penis was fairly long and wonderfully thick. Sometimes he stopped to fondle his balls, sometimes he jerked off with his thumb and forefinger, but he always returned to his trusty old wrist grip. And it was clear he was a seasoned masturbator. He teased himself, speeding up, slowing down, stopping, starting. Now he returned his attention to his glans, now he returned to his shaft. On and on he went.

And then he stopped and raised his knees to his chest. I was amazed. His anus was fully exposed, dark red and puckered. Slowly, he ran the palm of his left hand up the back of his thigh until it reached his left buttock. He massaged that buttock and then continued his advance.

His middle finger slipped into his butt cleft. He massaged that cleft up and down and circled his anus with his fingertip. Mr. Innocent! Tapping and circling that most secret of parts. Then he spat on his fingertip and returned it to his anus. I caught my breath. Could he really be going to do it? He could.

Slowly, he inched his finger into his anus, millimetre by millimetre until it had fully disappeared. He moved his hand about gently. Then, slowly, he withdrew three-quarters of his finger and, equally slowly, pushed it back in again. The puckered skin round his anus seemed to suck and blow. Again and again he repeated the action, in, out, in, out, gradually increasing the tempo until he was rhythmically fucking his own ass-hole. Briefly, he slipped in a second finger and pulled. His fingers launched into a kind of walking motion. He winced with pleasure. Then he removed one finger and resumed his wanton ass-fuck.

He grabbed his penis in his right fist and, still fucking his ass with his other hand, began to jerk off furiously. I couldn't believe how long he lasted. He seemed to be pulling and pumping away with one hand, and deliciously jabbing away with the other, for an eternity. My fingertip was getting into a frenzy against my clitoris, and I struggled not to moan too loudly.

Finally, Billy stopped. Nothing happened for an instant, and then a great jet of sperm arced out from his penis. It crashed down onto his chest, clinging enticingly to his chest hair. Further spurts pumped out and landed on his stomach. He produced an astonishing amount of semen, his ankles dancing about and his torso shuddering, before he was finally spent. Then he just lay there, all wet and messy, before slowly removing his finger from his ass. Slowly, he got up, clearly shattered, and staggered off into the en suite bathroom.

Well, Mr. Innocent, we know now, I thought.

A Weekend With Billy Ch. 2



When I got up the next morning, Billy was still in his room, fast asleep. I had a leisurely breakfast and took a shower. As it was a gloriously hot summer day (and as I wasn't done with Mr. Innocent), I decided to do some sunbathing in the garden. I put on my sexiest bikini - tiny yellow top and matching minimal thong - grabbed a couple of towels and some sun cream, and strolled out onto the lawn. Luckily, my garden is completely secluded, so I spread out one of the towels in the centre of the lawn and lay down on it. But I soon realised this wasn't provocative enough, so I went back into the sitting-room, collected a few magazines, and took them out onto the lawn. I lay on my back and leered at some shots of Naughty Nick gradually acquiring an erection.

After about half an hour, I caught a glimpse of Billy. He was standing at the kitchen window. I 'hid' the magazines and beckoned him to join me. A few moments later, he stepped out into the garden, a steaming mug of coffee in each hand. What a gentleman! He was wearing a white T-shirt and a pair of jeans.

He strolled up to me. I sat up on the towel. He handed me a coffee and smiled.

'Why don't you join me?' I asked. 'It's a glorious day.'

'Unfortunately, I didn't pack any swimwear,' he laughed.

'You can still slip off your T-shirt,' I said. I didn't want to rush things and blow it.

Billy agreed. He took off his T-shirt, spread out the second towel and sat down. We drank coffee and chatted away innocently. Twenty minutes later, I seized my chance.

'I could do with another coffee,' I said. 'What about you?'

'Sure,' he said. 'But I'll do it.'

'No, no,' I insisted. 'It's my turn.'

This gave me an excellent pretext to get up and wander nonchalantly back into the house, thus revealing, without openly referring to the fact, that I was wearing a thong.

The ruse worked. When I returned a few minutes later with two fresh mugs of steaming coffee, there was Billy, lying on his back on his lily white towel, his jeans rolled up as a pillow for his delicate head! His underwear was tiny and dark blue. Although I couldn't be absolutely sure, it looked suspiciously like a thong.

'I changed my mind and decided to join you,' he said. 'After all, it's not the first time underwear has doubled up for swimwear.'

'Exactly,' I said. 'A couple of years ago, it was quite the thing. What a terrible business! The return of the wretched Bermuda short. As beachwear! As swimwear! Such a ludicrous look, don't you think?'

Billy sat up and I handed him his coffee. He looked up at me as I stood beside him.

'You prefer ?'

'Something brief. Something cut properly. Something that actually matches and flatters the male form. Why are men so scared of looking sexy? Why do they think they have to make themselves look ridiculous? It makes me sick.'

I sat down on my towel and sipped some coffee.

Billy was silent for a few moments. 'I guess they think they look cool,' he finally ventured.

'Well, they're wrong,' I said.

We sat drinking our coffee for a while, until a thought occurred to me.

'Be an angel,' I said. 'I've left my sunglasses on the kitchen table. Could you get them for me?'

Billy hesitated for an instant.

'Sure,' he said.

He got up and walked towards the house. I was right. A thong. Perfect!

He returned a few moments later.

'There you are,' I said.

He handed me the sunglasses.

'What do you mean?' he asked.

'That thong you're wearing. It looks fantastic. Really makes the most of your various assets.'

Billy looked at me for a moment.

'Thanks,' he laughed.

Billy sat down on his towel. Again, we drank coffee and chatted for a while, and then I lay down on my front.

'Be an angel once more,' I said, 'and put some sun cream on my back.'

'Sure,' said Billy.

He worked the sun cream into my back, but stopped when he got to my buttocks.

'There too,' I said.

He massaged cream into my buttocks and then transferred his attention to the back of my legs.

'Thanks,' I said when he'd finally finished.

He massaged sun cream all over his front and legs. Then he tried to put some on his shoulders and back.

'Allow me to return the favour,' I said.

He lay down on his front, and I massaged the cream into his back. Then I massaged some more into his calves and the back of his thighs. Finally, I squeezed sun cream onto his buttocks and began to work it in. His ass looked lovely, so smooth and rounded, the sun cream glistening in the sun. I massaged harder and harder. Soon, I was kneading him, and as his buttocks opened and closed I gazed at his dark blue under-strap as it plunged from the tiny waistband between his cheeks. Finally, I pressed down with both palms quite hard, slapped his buttocks gently and rolled him over.

'All done. Oh ! I said.

Billy's penis was rearing up in its pouch.

'Sorry,' Billy said, his face crimson, 'I '

'No, no,' I said. 'Not at all. I'm glad. Allow me.'

And with that, I cupped his pouch in my right hand and squeezed. Billy tried to remove my hand, but I wasn't having any. I continued to squeeze and press, and Billy's prick grew harder and harder. Unable to stop myself, I covered Billy's thong pouch in sun cream and squeezed and kneaded his prick. The sun cream squelched. Soon, Billy was fully erect, so that the edges of his pouch were pulled up from his body and the pouch made a little tent. Through the gaps at the bottom I could clearly see his balls. I grabbed his dick through the fabric and squeezed tight, now concentrating on his shaft, now his helmet.

'Stand up! I want to try something,' I finally said.

Billy silently complied. I waited a few moments until his erection had marginally subsided and his penis formed a taut arc inside his pouch. I then positioned myself in front of him and pushed my arse-crack against the pouch. The arch of his penis nestled between my buttocks. I moved my buttocks up and down, pushing hard against his prick. I could feel the taut fabric now rubbing against the fabric covering my anus, now rubbing against the fabric covering my sex. It was delicious. On and on I went, until Billy was moaning, his penis rock hard beneath the pouch. I then kneeled in front of him and grabbed his penis in my fist. I moved my hand up and down so that the fabric massaged his prick.

'Turn round,' I suddenly said, 'and bend down.'

He did so. I stood at his side and coated the palm of my right hand with sun cream. I slipped my palm between his arse cheeks and ran my middle fingertip up and down the fabric of his under-strap, pressing hard. I continued for some time, then stabbed firmly at his fabric-covered anus with two fingertips. I pushed the fabric slightly up his hole.

'Oh no!' he gasped.

Now I fondled and kneaded his buttocks, now I massaged his butt cleft, now I pushed the under-strap into his hole. Finally, he was practically snorting.

I told him to stand up and turn round again. He did so. Again, I grabbed his penis and jerked him off furiously through the fabric. The friction must have been exquisite, because Billy soon lost control.

'Oh Jesus! Oh Jesus! Oh Jesus!' he gasped as he ejaculated uncontrollably. Semen oozed through the fabric round the tip of his prick. I cupped my palm round that area and squeezed. The semen squelched audibly and wet my palm.

'Oh dear,' I said. 'I seem to have made something of a mess.'

And with that, I pulled the waistband forward and looked inside. Billy's erect penis was still forcing the thong pouch out in front of him, so much so that his under-strap had been pulled forward and was neatly lifting and separating his balls. Semen had splashed and trickled down the inside of his pouch until it met the obstacle of his ball-sac, where it pooled.

Beside myself, I knelt next to him. First, I took hold of the waistband above his buttocks with my left hand. I pulled it halfway down his ass. Then, slowly, gently, carefully, I used my right hand to ease his under-strap away from his balls. It worked. Semen trickled down the under-strap and formed another pool. I looked at his prick and neatly-shaven balls as his erection slowly subsided. His balls were sticky with semen. Bit by bit, the tip of his prick sank back down to the soaking base of his pouch. Then I stood up and pulled his thong back up, knowing that his penis and balls and anus would now all be sticky with sperm.

Brazenly, I ordered him to get down on all fours and open his knees as wide as possible. He did so. I knelt behind him and checked. Sure enough, the part of the under-strap which pulled tight against his anus was soaked in semen.

I allowed him to lie down on his back and sunbathe, but I refused to let him get changed. And what a gorgeous spectacle he presented. Flushed neck and cheeks and a well-ruined thong, all messy with sun cream and semen. A few driblets of sperm had escaped onto his inner thighs, where they clung to his hairs and dried.

Billy slept in the sun for an hour. I watched him. I watched the front of his thong dry. I checked it. It felt like cardboard and gave off the pungent aroma of sex. Billy woke.

'Wow!' he murmured sleepily. 'What you did was amazing. But God, my thong's a wreck.'

'It is,' I said.

He was silent for a moment, and then, in a very low voice, as if he hardly dared say it, 'I should be spanked,' he confessed.

I too was silent for a moment. Had I left any spanking mags in his bedroom? Had he seen them? I decided to risk it.

'I agree,' I said. 'In fact, you'd better get up to your room.'

'Do I have to?' he asked.

'I'm afraid so, yes.'

I followed him into the house and up the stairs. His ass looked gorgeous. The thought of spanking it made me flush.

When we entered the bedroom, I went straight up to the ottoman and pulled it away from the mirror. I sat on it, facing the bed. The silk felt cool against my exposed ass cheeks.

'Get yourself over my knee,' I ordered.

Billy slowly came up to me and lowered himself over my knee. I could feel his penis pressing against my thigh through his sperm-starched thong. I gazed in anticipation at his buttocks.

'First, I'm going to give you a spanking,' I said. 'And then you can damn well wash that thong for yourself.'

I stroked his buttocks gently.

'But remember,' I said. 'It's for your own good.'

And with that, I raised my hand and spanked his right buttock quite hard. A sharp crack filled the room and a little pink mark appeared on Billy's butt flesh. I spanked his left buttock and watched a similar mark appear. Slowly, with tantalising pauses before each descent, I spanked his two buttocks, right, left, right, left, smack after smack after smack. Slowly, his ass cheeks turned from pink to red and his breaths became long and deep. Finally, when my hand couldn't take it anymore, I stopped and gazed at the results of my labours. Beautiful! A lovely red tingling butt. I was going to tell Billy to look in the mirror, but when I checked, I discovered he was already doing so. I looked over my shoulder into the mirror. Our eyes met. He smiled. Mr. Innocent!

'And now,' I said, 'it's time to wash that thong.'

I led Billy down to the kitchen and ordered him to take off his thong. His balls were still sticky with cum. The smell of sex reached my nostrils. As Billy stood with the thong in his hand, I opened a drawer and brought out a waiter's white cotton apron. I tied it round his waist. It was very short, barely covering his prick, and of course, at the back, his buttocks were fully exposed. Already, the red was beginning to fade.

'The soap powder's under the sink,' I informed him.

He opened the cupboard door and bent down. His ass looked divine, with the ties of the apron dangling into his crack. He stood up and filled the sink with warm water, adding and stirring in the powder. He began to wash the thong.

I went into the hall and fetched a clothes brush from the cloakroom. Returning to the kitchen, I stood behind Billy and watched. Little did he know!

'Not like that!' I barked. 'Give it a proper rub!'

And with that, I thwacked his ass with the back of the clothes brush. Billy jumped and looked round.

'Ow!' he said. 'That hurt!'

He rubbed his right buttock, leaving a fetching smear of soapsuds behind.

'Do the job properly,' I said.

He washed the thong thoroughly and was about to rinse it when I thwacked his left buttock.

'What now?' he asked.

'Use the scrubbing brush,' I said.

He scrubbed the thong thoroughly with a small scrubbing brush, and then I gave him permission to rinse.

Finally, he took the thong outside and hung it on the washing-line to dry. I watched him. His buttocks were so delicious, with their two deep red marks clearly visible even from a distance. I wanted to spank him again.



A Weekend With Billy Ch. 3



I told Billy to go upstairs and take a shower, but not get dressed. I went up to my own room and took a shower myself. What with the fun we'd had in the garden and the spanking I'd so recently administered, my sex was sopping, and I easily brought myself to a climax before getting myself clean.

I put on a tiny black bra and matching g-string, then took a white blouse and microscopic green miniskirt from the closet. I carried them into Billy's room.

Billy, freshly showered, was sitting on the bed, a towel around his waist. I put my skirt and blouse on the ottoman and brazenly bent over Billy's suitcase. I found a couple of clean thongs, one black, one purple, and a white tanga. I choose the purple thong, along with a pair of white cotton chinos, white short-sleeved shirt and white socks.

I took them over to Billy, stood him up, removed his towel, and began to dress him. Even in its flaccid state, his penis was a delight to behold. I got him to step into the thong and pulled it up, boldly adjusting his penis inside the pouch. Then I put on his white cotton socks. They looked sexy with only the thong for company. Sadly, I got him into his chinos. I was about to pick up his shirt when I noticed something. His chinos had no pockets at the back and, being designed for summer, were unlined. The cotton was generously thin, so that the waistband of his thong showed vaguely through. To a careful eye, it was a dead give-away.

I told him I had a top that would really suit him and returned to my bedroom, hoping that he wouldn't catch a glimpse of his butt in the mirror. Luckily, he sat down on the bed as I left the room. I fetched a white singlet that had belonged to an ex-boyfriend. It was tight and short and Billy, being muscular, had the body for it. I returned with it and slipped it over his head. It didn't quite reach his belly-button.

'Wow! This is cool,' he said.

Little did he know!

Finally, I put my blouse and skirt on in front of him and we went downstairs.

We went into the kitchen. I asked Billy to fill the kettle for some coffee. And yes, as he leaned over the sink, the seat of his trousers was drawn tight across his butt, so that the waistband and the little triangle at the top of the under-strap were both enticingly visible.

'I want to buy you some underwear,' I said.

He straightened up.

'Underwear? Why?'

'Because I love the way you're going to look in it.'

Billy laughed.

'I know a brilliant shop,' I said. 'I'll take you there.'

'Fine.'

We took the Tube into town and stepped out into blinding sunlight. 'Thank God!' I thought and fell behind Billy for a moment - and sure enough, the purple waistband was vaguely visible. I took his hand and walked beside him, proud as Punch. After we'd been walking for a minute or so, a woman suddenly rushed past us, stopped, turned to face us, grinned broadly, then rushed off on her way again.

'What the hell's she got to grin about?' Billy asked.

'I can't imagine,' I lied.

I led Billy to a place I know very well. A small store. Downstairs is a women's lingerie boutique, but upstairs, accessed via a separate entrance, specialises in men's underwear. Several men were furtively flicking through the racks, pretending to be more interested in the boxers than the thongs. To my delight, the assistant was a young woman. She can't have been more than about twenty.

I got straight down to business. I knew what I was looking for. First I found some skin-tight, black cotton-and-lycra trunks with very, very, very short legs. Next a dark blue full-backed tanga. A bright yellow three-quarter-backed tanga. A mid green half-backed tanga. A bright red quarter-backed tanga. This I particularly liked, as the back panel was exactly the same size as the pouch, only flat! A dubious turquoise silk thong and - finally - a tiny, tiny red nylon g-string with plain black elastic waistband and under-strap. All of which I bundled into Billy's embarrassed hands.

I thrust him to the pay station, where he coyly deposited the underwear on the counter. The assistant scrutinised each item separately, checking they were all the same size and slowly removing the price tags.

'Just about one of everything,' she finally laughed.

'Ah! Just a minute! That reminds me,' I said, and rushed back to the racks of underwear. I returned to the counter with a lovely little blue and white striped thong.

The assistant raised her eyebrows in interrogation.

'This will be great for spankings,' I explained.

Billy turned crimson.

'Yeah, right,' he said, trying to make it seem like a joke.

I paid and we left the store.

'Why so many?' Billy asked as we descended the stairs.

'You'll see,' I mysteriously replied.

'I'd like to ask you a favour,' I said, as we sat over lunch in my kitchen about an hour later. 'A very big favour, in fact.'

'What is it?' Billy asked.

'It's one of the reasons for all the underwear,' I replied. 'I want you to strip for some friends of mine. Women, of course. In my living room. This afternoon. And not just strip. Give yourself an erection. Show us your butt hole. Shove your finger up it, if you dare. Jerk off. Come. Right in front of us. And enjoy yourself doing it. Can you do that?'

'Well…'

'Oh, and I want to video your performance. If you don't mind. All right?'

Billy was speechless.

'Please!' I begged.

'All right, then,' he said very quietly.

I phoned six friends of mine and invited them round. I told them I had a surprise for them. I knew what they'd be thinking. They'd be thinking I'd invested in another raunchy video which I was desperate to share with them. Some guy stripping and giving himself an erection. Possibly a guy being paddled and caned. They'd been through it so many times before. They'd never guess they were going to see a live show.

Once I'd made all the phone calls, I took Billy upstairs to get dressed. I removed his trousers and thong, but left the singlet and socks in place. I knelt beside him with the bag of new underwear on the floor in front of me. His beautiful prick was inches from my face. First, I got him into the tiny red g-string, then the thong. Next came the quarter-backed, half-backed, three-quarter-backed and full-backed tangas. Finally, the skin-tight trunks. Seven items of underwear, not counting the singlet! The dance of the seven veils came to mind.

'I think we'll have you in your underwear from the start,' I said, 'but come with me for the finishing touch.'

I led Billy to my bedroom. He stared in amazement at the framed magazine photos on the walls - a big round ass, anus exposed, balls and prick hanging down underneath; a guy in a shower with the beginnings of an erection; a close-up of a fully-erect prick; a guy mid jerk-off. Then he noticed the piece de resistance on the back of the door. A life-sized poster or a guy at the moment of climax - head thrown back, nostrils flaring, dick firmly grasped, a stream of semen shooting up from the tip.

I rummaged about in my wardrobe and found an ex-boyfriend's cowboy hat. I planted it firmly on Billy's head. He looked ravishing.

Billy was in the kitchen when the women arrived. I sat them down in the lounge and we talked about this and that. As planned, Billy came in after about five minutes with a tray of coffee. The women fell silent, eyes riveted on his crutch. He took the tray round to each of them in turn.

Judy was the first to speak. 'Is this guy really standing here in his underwear?' she asked.

'And a cowboy hat,' Angela chipped in.

'Not for long,' I replied. 'Meet Billy. Billy's going to entertain us this afternoon. If you don't object, that is.'

The women were too stunned to reply at first, but they eventually murmured their various 'no-nos' and 'not-at-alls'.

Half an hour later, I made Billy, still naked and messy, sit and watch the video with us. His video. The video I'd made of his performance. And what a performance! …Billy stands in his underwear and cowboy hat, dance music playing in the background. He massages his chest and stomach through his singlet. He slips his left hand under his singlet and lifts it up to his chest, exposing his stomach. With his right hand, he massages his stomach, then slowly removes the singlet, which he tosses to the floor. He massages and pinches his nipples. He turns his back to us and fondles his ample butt through his trunks.

He walks right up to Angela and places her hands on his waist. Angela obligingly removes his trunks, revealing the full-backed tanga underneath. Billy fondles himself back and front, squeezing and pinching and stroking through the fabric. He goes up to Judy, who removes the first tanga. She is surprised to discover a second one underneath. Billy turns round to show off his three-quarter back, then struts around the room. He walks up to Helen, who briskly pulls down the second tanga. The third is revealed, and everyone laughs and complains. They laugh and complain even more when the fourth comes into view.

Billy turns round and the room falls silent. The quarter-backed tanga looks fantastic, pulling tightly against his ass. Most of his swelling butt cheeks are deliciously exposed, together with the top of his cleavage. Billy faces us and fondles his prick through the fabric. A tell-tale bulge appears. He goes up to Polly, who makes to remove the tanga, but is checked. Billy turns round, straddles Polly's lap and bends down. His ass is inches from her nose. She places one palm on each buttock and kneads. Billy stands up and turns round again. He straddles her left leg and begins to squat down. He presses his bulge against her left knee-cap and brazenly fucks her knee.

He stands up, the bulge now more prominent, and walks up to Judy. He presses the bulge against her nose. She giggles and squeals in excitement, and grasps his buttocks in her hands. Billy goes up to Jennifer, straddles her lap and pushes his bulge between her breasts. He squeezes her breasts through her T-shirt and thrusts between them with his bulge. He goes up to Angela and raises her up. He bends her over her chair and lifts up her miniskirt.

The tiny black back of her panties is revealed. Billy places his hands on Angela hips, thrusts forward, and fucks her butt cleft with his bulge. Again and again he thrusts, forcing the thin fabric of her panties between her cheeks. Slowly, lasciviously, he rubs his bulge up and down her butt cleft and prods firmly where the fabric nestles against her anus. Angela groans with pleasure.

Billy returns to Polly, turns his back on her, straddles her legs and bends down once more. This time Polly goes wild. She grabs Billy's waistband and yanks it up his back. The tiny triangle that purports to cover his rear disappears between his ass cheeks. And now Polly is lapping away at his ass and darting her tongue into his butt cleft. Billy gasps with pleasure for thirty seconds or so, then stands up. He deftly retrieves the tanga back from between his butt cheeks and restores it to its rightful position. It is clearly damp.

He moves over to Jean and places her hands on his waistband. Jean, a colleague of mine more than old enough to be Billy's mother, surprises him by pulling him over her lap and proceeding to spank him very hard. Her hand rains down on the tiny triangle of fabric and the naked acres of his buttocks, which rapidly turn pink. Billy wriggles about, but Jean continues to spank him for about a minute. Forcefully, she makes him stand up and yanks down his tanga, revealing the silk thong beneath. She forces him, tanga round his ankles, back over her lap and spanks his bare buttocks even more wildly. The other women whoop in appreciation. Billy's ass is now dark red.

Finally released, Billy moves to the centre of the room. He grasps the waistband of his thong. The women stare in anticipation. Billy lowers his thong, and sure enough, there is the tiny red g-string. The women groan, but their disappointment is short-lived. Billy has produced a prodigious amount of pre-cum, and the nylon around the tip of his penis is soaked.

He thrusts his hips back and forth, his penis straining against his pouch. He goes up to each of the women in turn and jabs his pouch against their noses. They giggle and wipe away the pre-cum with the backs of their hands. He returns to the centre of the room and turns his back to us. He plants his feet wide apart and bends down. Compared with his reddened buttocks, the skin inside his bum cleft is very white, and compared with that, the thin elastic under-strap is very black indeed.

'Look at his anus!' Judy gasps.

And sure enough, on either side of the barely-there under-strap, the dark red puckered flesh of his anus is revealed. Jean stands up and walks up to him. Billy, clearly wondering what's likely to happen next, makes to stand up too, but Jean won't let him. She yanks his waistband far up his back so that the under-strap tickles and massages his butt cleft and pulls into his hole. Billy snorts. Jean digs her thumbs into his ass cheeks very close to his anus and pulls them wide apart. His asshole clearly opens before our eyes. Jean calls on Angela to help her.

'Pull his waistband up,' she says.

Angela does so.

'As far it will stretch, front and back,' Jean adds.

Angela does as she's told. Billy's prick and balls are pulled cruelly against his body, and the under-strap of his g-string cuts sharply into his hole. Of course I zoom in very close, and the image on the TV screen is truly awesome. Jean releases and reapplies the pressure on her thumbs and Billy's anus closes and opens rhythmically like a fish mouth, devouring the under-strap.

When Billy is finally released, he stands in the centre of the room. Slowly, he lowers his g-string. His hard shaft is gradually revealed. Finally, his penis jerks free. The women cheer. Billy's glans is glistening with pre-cum. He squeezes the head of his penis and yet more pre-cum weeps from the tip. It is fascinating to watch. Billy milks more and more of the stuff and massages it into his glans and shaft. When his penis is incredibly hard and glistening, he squeezes more pre-cum onto his fingertips and brazenly laps it up. He walks up to each of the women in turn and thrusts his rock hard penis under their noses. The scent of sex is in the air.

Billy strikes a number of poses for us. He gets down on all fours and lowers his chest to the floor, his knees wide apart. We see his anus and balls between his legs. He pushes his hard shaft down and we see that too, the helmet purple and glistening. He pulls his butt cheeks wide apart and opens his anus slightly.

He gets up and raises Jean, Angela and Judy from the sofa. He lies on the sofa on his back and slowly masturbates. After a couple of minutes he lies on his side and masturbates some more. Then he lies on his stomach and massages his ass. He kneads and strokes and pinches. When he sits up again, we notice a little pool of pre-cum on the sofa. Fortunately, it is leather, and Jean wipes it up with a tissue.

Billy sits and allows his erection to subside somewhat. This is extremely enjoyable to watch, because it takes a considerable time. He then gets up, and rather to our surprise walks up to the television. He stands with his back to us, feet wide apart. We crouch low to get the best possible view of his prick and balls below his buttocks. He presses his prick against the TV screen and moves it about. It is soon very hard again, but forced to point straight down. The screen becomes smeared with pre-cum.

Again he walks up to each of the women, and wipes his bursting, soaking helmet against their cheeks. He kneads and pinches his helmet, tapping and pinching the ridges and cleft. His neck and cheeks are flushed and his breathing is deep and slow. He fondles and pleasures his shaven balls.

Finally, he lies on the floor and masturbates in earnest. He calls Polly to his side and gets her to suck on the fingers of his left hand. She does so with evident pleasure as she watches him jerk off. Saliva drools from her mouth and runs down his fingers.

Billy gets Polly to kneel behind his head. He raises his knees to his shoulders and gets Polly to hold them there. His anus is fully revealed. Still pulling his rod with his right hand, he lowers his left hand to his ass. He extends his middle finger and taps at his sphincter with it. He moans with pleasure. With all the women crowding round in disbelief, he slowly inserts his finger into his anus. Slowly, oh so slowly, it advances, and his sphincter stretches and sucks. Finally, he has inserted his finger right up to the knuckle.

He leaves it there and continues to masturbate. Then he begins to fuck his anus rhythmically with his finger. He does this for a minute, and the women get down on the floor and take it in turns to get the closest possible view. Then, still fucking his anus, Billy begins to jerk off more quickly. Faster and faster he masturbates until his back is arched with ecstasy. He moans with pleasure. Uuh! Uuh! Mm! Nn! Nn! Mm! Mm! And then, with a glorious grunt, he comes. Prodigiously. His semen gushes out in jet after jet. The first hits him right in the face, just under his nose. The next hits his neck. The next his chest. And so on, down to his stomach. Finally, the last few drops trickle down his glans and shaft and nestle in his pubic hair.

He lies back down on the floor and slowly removes his finger from his anus. We watch mesmerised as his erection slowly subsides until his penis flops wetly against his thigh. To our unutterable delight, he licks the semen from under his nose and gallantly swallows it down. He asks for a tissue, but we won't give him one…

I stopped the video. Everyone looked at Billy to see how he had taken his exposure. The guy was semi-erect! He'd enjoyed every damn minute of it! And what a gloriously messy picture he presented, drying semen still adorning his neck and chest, his stomach and pubic hair, his thigh.

'Well!' said Jean. 'You are a wicked boy! I've never seen such lascivious depravity. Masturbating to completion in front of, what, seven women! Brazenly probing your anus! And allowing yourself to be videoed doing it! Unbelievable! You must be soundly spanked, my boy!

I quickly inserted a new tape in the video camera and pressed 'record'.

Jean pulled Billy up from his chair. She found the quarter-backed tanga on the floor. It was evidently her favourite. She made him step into it and pulled it up around his waist. She sat on a dining chair.

'Now get yourself across my knees,' she said.

Billy looked at the sperm on his chest and stomach.

'Never mind that,' barked Jean. 'Just get yourself over my knees.'

Billy lowered himself into position.

Jean gently stroked his buttocks for a moment as we all stared at the tiny triangle of fabric that barely covered his crack. Indeed, an ample cleavage was revealed. Jean raised her hand and paused. She waited a good ten seconds and then brought her hand down with a resounding smack. She paused again, then smacked again, equally hard. She spanked him slowly like this about twelve times, then spanked him at least twenty times very hard and very fast. She rested for a few seconds, then administered another twenty fast smacks. Billy's buttocks wriggled and writhed, already bright pink. Now she spanked the bare parts of his buttocks, now the tiny triangle of fabric, now the backs of his thighs. The sound was deafening. Billy gasped and gasped. Finally, Jean was exhausted.

'Get up,' she barked.

He did so. Jean got up too and walked over to one of the armchairs. She turned it round.

'Now bend over the back of this,' she bawled.

Billy hesitated.

'Do you dare to hesitate?' Jean asked, and spanked him hard again as he stood there.

Billy walked over to the armchair and bent over it.

'Angela!' barked Jean. 'Spank him long and spank him hard.'




A Weekend With Billy Ch. 4



After the women had left and Billy had showered and changed, the two of us sat drinking coffee in my living-room. Something was on my mind.

'Did they spank you too hard?' I suddenly asked.

'No, no,' Billy answered. 'I enjoyed it.'

'But didn't it hurt?'

'Of course it did. Even so, I really enjoyed it.'

'So did we. Do you often get spanked?'

'No. I've often fantasised about it, but yesterday and today were my first experiences.'

'Maybe we can arrange for some more sometime.' I said.

Billy looked at me. 'I hope so,' he said softly.

'Changing the subject, do you fancy going to a club tonight?' I asked.

'Yeah. Good idea.'

We got to the club at about eight thirty and sat at one of the tables at the front next to the dance floor. The room was dimly lit. Even so, Billy soon realised it was practically full of women. Apart from himself, there were only three men to be seen. As for the women, there were about fifty of us.

'This is a bit odd,' Billy commented.

'What do you mean?' I innocently asked.

'The place is full of women.'

'Well, of course it is.' I said. 'It's a strip club for women. I thought I told you.'

'You bloody well didn't!' Billy exclaimed. 'I don't want to watch a load of men getting their kit off.'

'You won't have to. It's Saturday night.'

'I don't get the connection,' Billy said.

'Saturday night is amateur night. You're the one who'll be getting his kit off. Well, along with the three other guys.'

'You're kidding, right?' Billy asked.

Before I had time to answer, a woman appeared at our table. She was holding a white plastic carrier bag.

'Hi! Thanks for coming,' she said to Billy. 'I'm Sadie. I'll be helping you get ready.'

And with that, she plonked the plastic bag on the table.

'This is your stuff,' she explained. 'If you'll just follow me, I'll take you to your dressing-room.'

Billy frowned at me for a moment and looked as if he was about to speak, but his features suddenly resolved themselves into a grin. He was getting turned on by the idea. Mr Innocent never ceased to amaze.

Billy followed his assistant through a door that lead from the dance floor 'backstage'. Three more assistants lead the other three guys out and an air of expectation fell on the room.

A few minutes later, the first guy came out on stage. The dance floor was suddenly bathed in bright light. Music began to play. I noticed that a twelve-foot ladder had been placed against the wall behind the dance floor. It almost reached the ceiling, which was far from high. To the right of the ladder, an enormous flat-screened TV flickered into life. We could see the guy on that too, live. I turned round and noticed three video cameras at various points around the room. They were being operated by female members of staff, and they were all trained on the stage.

The guy stood lost for a moment in the middle of the stage. He was dressed as a construction worker - yellow hard-hat, white T-shirt, denim cut-offs and boots. He had one of those construction worker's tool-belts round his waist, from which hammers, screwdrivers and spanners dangled precariously. I couldn't help thinking it would be difficult to perform with all that lot swinging about.

The guy turned round and walked up to the ladder. He started to climb it. His cut-offs had been cut incredibly short at the back, so that the beginnings of his butt-cheeks were revealed below the soft blue fabric. He advanced towards the top of the ladder, stopped, stuck his butt out, and play-acted fixing something on the wall with a hammer.

He looked gorgeous. His butt was pert and taut, his shoulder and arm muscles well developed. He was clearly a man who worked out. The TV screen afforded us a close-up of that delectable ass as it twisted a little from side to side.

This dumb-show went on for about thirty seconds, and then the guy retreated down the ladder. His butt swung about even more deliciously as he did so.

He faced the audience and advanced to the centre of the stage. Here, he thrust his hips to one side and raised his T-shirt above his head. His chest was firm, muscular and clean-shaven. The thought of seeing him naked set my pulse racing. He removed his T-shirt completely and tossed it into the audience. A number of women cheered. He removed something from his tool-belt. It turned out to be a can of cola. He opened it, raised it to his lips, tilted his head back and, in a glorious parody of the TV commercial, took a great swig of cola. The audience laughed and applauded.

It was then that his problems started. He placed the can of cola on the floor beside him and proceeded to undo his tool-belt. Perhaps the weight of the thing took him by surprise. Whatever the reason, it slipped from his grasp and went clattering to the floor. Tools bounced out of the belt and scattered around him. The can of cola was upended and the dark liquid spilt out onto the stage. He quickly bent down and set the can upright again.

Next he tried to undo his cut-offs, but the zipper got caught. He struggled with the thing for ages before finally wrenching it down with unseemly force. It was hard not to giggle.

He opened the flaps of his cut-offs and the black pouch of his underwear was revealed. The TV screen treated us to another close-up. He turned round and slowly lowered his cut-offs, exposing the black waistband and under-strap of his thong. Then he turned to the front again and deftly kicked his cut-offs into the audience.

Things went reasonably well for a while after that. He danced provocatively for us, now shaking his hips from side to side, now placing his hands behind his head and aiming pelvic thrusts at us. Sometimes he turned his back on us, wriggled his butt about and bent over. It wasn't exactly professional stuff, but not at all bad for an amateur.

And then disaster struck. He faced us and began to advance towards the front of the stage. As his did so, he stubbed his toe against a wrench, which went slithering across the stage. It must have hurt, because he involuntarily raised his right foot and clutched his toe in his right hand. Needless to say, this caused him to hop about the stage, as a result of which he pretty soon landed on the head of the hammer. He must have landed on the part designed for removing nails, because the pain was great enough to cause him to cry out.

He'd clearly had enough by this time. Once he'd righted himself on his feet again, he somewhat unceremoniously removed his thong, gave us a quick glimpse of flaccid dick, and retired from the stage with a limp. That was it!

Of course, we all felt sorry for the guy and gave him a good round of applause, but it wasn't exactly a triumphant start to the show.

The lights went down on the stage and the ladder was removed. Then the second guy entered and the lights went up again.

He was dressed as a soccer player, but we hardly had time to register the fact, his striptease was so rushed. I guess he was nervous and wanted to get things over quickly. Within seconds his top was off and a few seconds later he was removing his shorts. He attempted a kind of dance in his white sports thong, but it wasn't very arousing.

Soon the thong too was dispensed with and the audience cheered as his prick was exposed to their eyes. He had the very beginnings of an erection. Perhaps the enthusiasm of the audience got him going because he became quite daring for a time. He pulled back his foreskin and made powerful pelvic thrusts so that his shaft swung up and down. He then twisted his hips about so that his dick swung from side to side. His helmet repeatedly crashed into the tops of his thighs. Not surprisingly, he was soon completely erect.

The audience went wild. This was what they wanted to see. In response to their appreciation, the guy came right up to the front of the stage. He slowly walked to the right hand end of the stage and then slowly crossed from there to the left hand end so that everyone could get a decent view of his hard-on. My panties became moist as I happily anticipated what he might do next.

But alas, that was as far as he was prepared to go. He returned to the centre of the stage, faced the audience, bowed a couple of times then hurriedly walked off.

For the short interval that followed this 'performance', the stage lights were dimmed once more. A couple of shadowy figures appeared with what looked like a pair of stepladders. They seemed to fix something to the ceiling, then hauled the ladders off stage. Then a man entered and the lights went up.

It was Billy. I must admit, his appearance was somewhat ridiculous. He was wearing the figure-hugging white tights favoured by some acrobats, together with what looked like a white T-shirt. The reason for this instantly became apparent. I looked across to the left hand side of the stage and saw that a trapeze had been suspended from two hooks in the ceiling.

Billy must have found the thing almost as comical as I did, because he looked at it ironically for a moment before walking across to it. He hoisted himself up and sat on the crossbar quite easily, his feet only a foot or so above the ground. He then managed to stand on the crossbar and swing the trapeze backwards and forwards. Each time he pulled back on the wires he was forced to thrust his hips forward somewhat and the bulge of his sex was clearly visible beneath his tights. Billy the male ballet dancer! What next?

Billy turned round and faced the other way. Male ballet dancer indeed! His tights plunged revealingly between his buttocks so that the outline and contours of his crack were clearly defined. Half close your eyes and you'd have thought that he was naked.

Billy swung about for thirty seconds or so then dropped to the floor. He walked centre stage and stood with his back to us, his feet planted slightly apart. He outrageously stuck his butt out and wiggled it about a la Jagger. Then, slowly, he lowered his tights.

The T-shirt turned out to be a thong-backed leotard. As Billy lifted first his right knee then his left to step out of his tights, we feasted our eyes on the white under-strap that pulled so tightly between his butt-cheeks. He turned to face us. My, my, it was tight. His prick and balls were visibly being crushed beneath the fabric.

Billy came up to the front of the stage and stepped out into the audience. He walked up to a woman a few tables from mine, took her hand and led her onto the stage. The audience cheered loudly, as it dawned on them that Billy was a 'sport'. He was going to go further than the other guys. It was obvious.

Billy wrapped his arms round the woman and encouraged her to fondle his buttocks. It didn't take much effort on his part. She eagerly grabbed his buns and started kneading them. Then she broke free and whispered something in Billy's ear. Billy instantly set his feet apart and bent down.

The woman eagerly investigated his ass. First she stroked and kneaded and pinched his buttocks. Then she pulled his butt-cheeks apart and checked out his under-strap. It was ample in width and sadly concealed his anus. Even so, she placed the tips of her third and fourth fingers firmly against the area between Billy's balls and butt-hole. Then she drew her fingers right up the length of his crack, still pressing firmly. She continued this cleft massage for some time before standing Billy up and turning him to face the audience. She stood behind him and reached round to his crotch. She cupped his prick and balls in her palm and squeezed. She fondled and fingered him lasciviously through the fabric.

After a couple of minutes of this treatment, Billy bundled the woman off the stage and back to her seat. He stood at the front of the stage, facing the audience. With his right hand, he firmly grasped the left hand side of his leotard near the neck and pulled it over his left shoulder. It must have been incredibly elastic, because it stretched easily. More interestingly, it revealed a black leather shoulder-strap. Billy wrestled his left arm free of the leotard and then repeated the manoeuvre with his right arm. He pulled the leotard down his sides, revealing more and more of the two thin leather shoulder-straps beneath.

Finally, he slid the leotard down his thighs, and sure enough, he was wearing a leather suspender thong. He stepped out of the leotard and turned round to confirm the point. The audience applauded when confronted with his bare ass once more.

Billy bent down. The shoulder-straps pulled tighter and tighter, drawing the under-strap up with them. It was obvious that Billy was being cut in half.

He stood up and walked over to the trapeze. He pulled himself up and sat on it, facing the audience. A thought had evidently occurred to him. He lifted his legs up straight out in front of him then opened them as far as they would go. He shifted backwards until the crossbar was positioned beneath the backs of his knees. He then bent his knees and at the same time lowered his butt below the crossbar. He spread his legs until the sides of his knees were touching the side wires of the trapeze, then lowered his hands and grabbed the crossbar between his knees. His butt-cheeks were completely spread. Above them, his cock and balls bulged in their cruel leather pouch. We could see the entire length of the under-strap as it plunged from that pouch and ran down between Billy's cheeks.

Instinctively, I looked up at the TV screen, and yes, there it was in close-up. Billy's delicious ass on a gigantic scale, crowned by that bulging pouch. Whoever was operating the camera must have been wondering about something, because she slowly zoomed in closer and closer on the area around Billy's anus. The under-strap was deliciously narrow, so that the dark red puckered skin of his sphincter was clearly revealed. But that wasn't all. The under-strap was pulled so tight that Billy's butt-hole had given up the struggle and opened up slightly. The leather was actually on a level with the puckered skin, and the lips of Billy's anus were sort of nibbling on it.

Billy blatantly tilted his head back so that he could check out the image, upside-down, on the screen. Outrageously, he clenched and unclenched his sphincter. Several women in the audience whooped.

Somehow, Billy got himself off the trapeze and came to the front of the stage. He pointed to his suspender thong and raised his shoulders interrogatively. At the same time, his face took on a questioning expression. What a tease! Instantly, the audience started chanting loudly: 'Off! Off! Off! Off! Off!…'

Billy slipped the straps from his shoulders like a woman removing her bra. They fell and dangled beside his thighs. He grasped the front of his pouch and slowly lowered it, finally revealing his prick and balls. The audience cheered. Billy stepped from the suspender thong and grabbed his dick. He was already semi-erect, and after a few gentle strokes and squeezes he was proudly standing to attention.

Again, he stepped into the audience, this time walking up to the table next to mine. Once more, he grabbed a woman by the hand, who excitedly followed him onto the stage. She kept him near the audience and turned him sideways on. She forced him to bend over and spread his legs. She knelt behind him and pulled his butt-cheeks wide apart. She put her mouth close to the base of his crack.

Billy suddenly shot forward. She must have licked his butt-hole and taken him by surprise. Firmly, she pulled him back again and reapplied her mouth to his ass. It was frustrating. We couldn't see a thing.

Possibly guessing our predicament, the woman got up and led Billy back to her table, which was rapidly cleared of wineglasses. She sat Billy on the table, facing away from the stage. She then pulled him back until he was lying down. Amazingly, she got her friend and a woman from another table to lift and pin Billy's knees either side of his shoulders. His anus winked up at me. His prick pointed stiffly at his belly-button. His balls were spread.

One of the camerawomen hastily changed her position so that she could get an unimpeded close-up. Billy's ass filled the TV screen once more. Even so, I only glanced at it. Since Billy was lying on the table next to mine, I could see everything.

The woman stood on a chair and raised her skirt. She was wearing a tiny black tanga. She placed her knees either side of Billy's on the table and lowered her butt onto his face. She rubbed her sex through the fabric against his nose. Then she bent forward, grabbed his butt and started licking his asshole with the back of her tongue. Billy writhed about. The woman licked faster. A pool of saliva gathered on Billy's anus beneath her tongue. It made a sort of clicking sound as she licked.

After a minute or so, the woman hauled herself off the table. She made Billy stand up. His erection was rock solid and pre-cum oozed from the eye of his glans.

The woman lay down on the table, head towards the audience. She told Billy to kneel on the table so that his ass was above her head. He did so. She forced his knees wide apart and pulled his butt towards her face. She placed her thumbs on his butt-cheeks, very close to his asshole. She dug in her thumbs and pulled his ass-cheeks wide apart. Brazenly, she stuck out her tongue. It was long and pointed and hard. She ordered Billy to bounce up and down on her tongue.

The camerawoman lay on the floor so that she could capture the scene from below. We all gazed at the screen, including Billy. Gently, he lowered his ass until it met the waiting tongue. He did this several times then, once he'd got the hang of the distance involved, started rhythmically jabbing his anus against the tongue. After a while, he paused, slowly lowered his ass again, and pressed his butt-hole quite forcefully against the tongue.

The woman went wild. She flicked her tongue across Billy's anus about fifty times, really lashing him, then thrust harder than ever at his hole. Billy lowered himself still further and the tip of the woman's tongue finally wormed its way inside him.

Suddenly, the woman let out a kind of keening moan and her legs started dancing about. The audience applauded.

Billy waited for her orgasm to subside, then climbed off her. He walked up to another table and guided a third woman to the stage. She too, like the woman before her, got Billy to stand sideways on to the audience, but she knelt in front of him rather than behind him.

She held on to the back of his thighs and started licking his balls. Then she licked her way slowly up his shaft until she reached his helmet. I looked at the close-up of Billy's prick on the TV screen. The woman's hand squeezed, and a prodigious quantity of pre-cum wept from his eye. The woman licked it up, then squeezed to produce some more. She repeated this several times before transferring her attention to the ridges of Billy's helmet. These she licked and kissed and licked again. Then she placed the tip of her tongue against that incredibly sensitive point just beneath the eye and licked forcefully in little circles.

When the woman took Billy's helmet into her mouth, Billy threw his head back and groaned. He placed his palms on the back of the woman's head and pulled her further onto his dick. The woman responded eagerly, sucking and slurping and fucking Billy's prick with her mouth. 'Mm! Mm! Mm!' she moaned.

She gave Billy a long, slow blow-job, sucking and licking his helmet and mouth-fucking his shaft by turns. Five minutes must have passed, then Billy suddenly pushed the woman's head away. She got up, turned Billy to face the audience, then stood behind him. She waited for his excitement to subside a little, then reached round and grabbed his prick in her hand.

Now she squeezed and pinched his glans. Now she massaged his balls. Sometimes she jerked him off with her thumb and forefinger. Sometimes she jerked him off with her whole fist. One minute, she pumped slowly, slowly, slowly. The next minute, her hand was a blur. Occasionally, Billy grasped her wrist to stop her. He wanted to prolong his enjoyment and ours.




A Weekend With Billy Ch. 5



The following day, I asked my six women friends round for lunch. Knowing that Billy would still be there, they accepted my invitation eagerly. Billy too was glad that they would be seeing him again.

As it was a hot day, we decided to have a barbecue in the garden. Billy cooked for us in nothing but the tiny white waiter's apron I'd got him to wear the day before. Needless to say, his cute firm ass was deliciously exposed, and we could clearly see the line of his prick pulled tight beneath the white cotton fabric at the front.

Once we'd finished our ribs and tuna steaks, I asked Billy to come inside with me and help prepare dessert. He followed me into the house. I told him to wait for me in the dining-room and went into the kitchen to fetch the fruit. When I returned with it, together with one of those pressurised cans of whipped cream, I was pleased to see that Billy had spread a tablecloth on the dining-table.

'What a nice boy!' I thought. 'His mother would be proud.'

I removed Billy's apron and got him to lie on the table, stark naked. Years before, I'd read of Japanese businessmen eating food off women spread out naked in front of them. Now it was going to be the women's turn.

First, I sprayed cream all over Billy's prick and balls, obscuring them completely. Then I peeled four bananas and lay them in the bed of cream.

'Looks as if I've got four dicks,' Billy laughed.

'Exactly,' I said.

I cut the tips off two strawberries and scooped some of the flesh out, making two little wells. These I filled with whipped cream. Then I stuck the tips on Billy's nipples.

'Now, now,' I said. 'I hope you haven't been fondling your breasts, Billy.'

'What do you mean,' he asked.

'Your nipples are quite erect.'

I sprayed small islands of cream onto his ribcage and stomach and placed slices of kiwi fruit on each of them. Finally, I sprayed cream into his stomach button and pushed a strawberry into it, tip first.

When I brought the women in from the garden, they laughed at the spectacle that confronted them.

'Oh my God!' said Jean. 'You've turned him into a sweet trolley.'

I decided to impose a little rule on my friends.

'Now, of course you can eat up all the fruit,' I said. 'And the cream. But you can't use your hands. You can only use your mouths and tongues. And I want Billy's body to be spotless when you've finished. Spotless all over.'

Judy was the first to dive in. She bent over Billy's left nipple and took the strawberry tip into her mouth. Having eaten it, she licked Billy's nipple clean, lasciviously circling the little brown bud and its halo with her tongue.

Helen dealt with Billy's right nipple in a similar fashion, except that, instead of licking the cream up, she kissed and sucked his nipple until no traces remained. Then, with a series of great slurps, she sucked harder, like a child at her mother's breast. On and on she nibbled and sucked, and it was obvious that Billy was enjoying the experience, as certain stirrings became evident beneath the bananas and cream.

Jean and Angela dispatched the kiwi fruit between them and licked the cream from his torso. Polly ate the final strawberry and cleaned out his belly button with the tip of her tongue.

Only the bananas remained. With some difficulty, Jennifer ate the first two and I consumed the final pair, laughing and squirming as our noses and cheeks and chins became smeared with cream.

I gallantly let Jennifer remove the cream from Billy's dick and balls. First, she licked up as much as she could with her tongue, and Billy's genitals were rapidly revealed. Then she took his entire ball-sac into her mouth and sucked at it gently. His penis, already approaching full erection, instantly turned rock hard. Once his balls were clean, she licked his shaft like a cat and then took his helmet into her mouth. Billy gasped and sat up.

Jennifer released his glans and stood up to survey the results of her labors. Billy appeared entirely clean, but I wasn't convinced. I pushed him back down onto the table and brazenly lifted his knees up to his chest. I then pulled his butt cheeks wide apart. Sure enough, cream had trickled down his butt cleft and nestled on that dark red puckered asshole of his.

I got Judy and Angela to hold his knees in place and then I lowered my face to his ass. Repeatedly, I licked between his butt cheeks and then licked and sucked on his asshole. I used the tips of my thumbs and forefingers to spread his cheeks as wide as possible and continued licking and sucking until long after all traces of cream had been removed.

When Billy was well and truly spotless, it was his turn to eat. I presented him with a small bowl of strawberries.

'You'll have to produce your own cream for yourself,' I informed him. 'The real stuff has run out. And you'll have to produce it right here and now in front of us.'

Billy needed little encouragement and little time to deliver what was needed. He clutched the bowl of strawberries in his left hand in front of his penis and grasped his stiff shaft with his right hand.

Jennifer and I had obviously done our jobs, because Billy immediately started pumping himself furiously. He only lasted thirty seconds or so, and then a great spurt of semen squirted out over the strawberries. A prodigious amount of sperm gushed out of him in seven full spurts before his ejaculation began to subside.

'You realise those strawberries must all be eaten?' I checked.

'Of course,' he replied.

And with that, he picked one from the bowl and nonchalantly popped it in his mouth. He sucked on it, then chewed it and swallowed it down.

What a guy! He really enjoyed those strawberries, licking them and sucking them and chewing them. And even when he got down to the last of them and discovered that it was entirely without cream, he remained undaunted. He lifted his flaccid dick and lowered the strawberry to the tip of his glans. A few late droplets of sperm had gathered there, and these Billy smeared onto the strawberry. He then put the strawberry in his mouth and polished it off.

After lunch, we all went back out into the garden, Billy still naked as the day he was born. It was then that I made my confession.

'To tell you the truth,' I said, 'I didn't just ask you here for lunch. There's something I'd like to ask you to do.'

I told them about Billy's performance in the club the night before and the business of the guy chickening out at the end.

'Just before we left,' I said, 'I had a word with the manager. I felt a bit sorry for her. Anyway, the point is, I offered to put on a kind of show tonight. By way of compensation, if you see what I mean.'

'In the club?' Polly asked.

'Of course. They're offering a professional male strip show tonight, but there's an interval which we're free to use.'

'We?'

'I want some of us to take part in an erotic improvisation. Billy, of course, if he doesn't mind.'

'Of course he doesn't mind,' said Angela.

Billy laughed.

'And then I was thinking maybe you, Angela, and you, Polly, and myself.'

'We don't have to get naked, do we?' Polly asked.

'Of course not. That's Billy's department.'

'What sort of improvisation are you thinking of?' Angela inquired.

'Well, that's what I want to discuss. But Billy, I want it to be a surprise for you, so if you could leave us to it, that would be brilliant.'

'Sounds fun,' Billy said. 'I'll go and have a shower.'

He made for the house, then suddenly turned round and came back again.

'Just a couple of things,' he said, Columbo-like.

'What's that?' I asked.

'First, I'd really like to do something outrageous this time.'

'This time?!' I asked, incredulous.

'And the other thing is…'

He paused, as if he hardly dared say it.

'And the other thing is what?' I inquired.

'I'd like to be caned.'

I looked at him.

'I don't think that's such a good idea,' I finally said.

'But I want to try it.'

'No,' I said. 'An ex-boyfriend of mine once asked me to cane him and he really regretted it. Not only was it far more painful than he'd realised, but it left welts that lasted for ages. And apart from anything else, don't forget you've got a job interview tomorrow. You don't want to be shifting about in your seat.'

'But I really want to try it,' Billy insisted.

'We'll see,' I said.

The professional strippers were really kind. They brought some furniture from the club manager's office - a couple of desks, a couple of desk chairs, a filing cabinet - and set them up on the stage. Then they disappeared for their break and, once I'd put a few props in place, we were ready to begin.

At the start of our piece, Angela and I were sitting at our desks, trying to get some work done. Billy, however, was sitting on Angela's desk, drinking a cup of coffee and attempting, unsuccessfully, to flirt with her. He was wearing his business suit. Angela was wearing a knee-length white summer dress with a floral design in pink - all very sweet and demur. For my own part, I was dressed in a white blouse, black mid-thigh-length skirt and black stockings.

Polly came into the 'office' with a manila file under her arm.

'All right if I put this back in the filing cabinet?' she asked.

'Of course,' I said.

She walked up to the cabinet and bent down to open the bottom drawer. As a result, her incredibly short black miniskirt rode up somewhat, revealing the lower part of what appeared to be two naked buttocks.

Billy leered at Polly's ass in delight.

'What the hell are you gawking at?' I asked.

'What do you mean?' Billy lamely responded.

'Polly,' I said. 'Can you believe this? Billy's staring at your butt.'

Polly stood up indignantly.

'What?!' she shouted.

'Well, what do you expect?' Billy said defiantly. 'Coming to work in a barely-there miniskirt and a thong. It's hardly appropriate, is it?'

'Excuse me? Did you say "thong"?'

'Oh, come on! It's obvious.'

'Who's wearing a thong?' Polly snapped.

She was so furious, she lifted her skirt to reveal the black tanga she was wearing underneath. The rear panel had ridden up her butt cleft, but this was now deftly retrieved.

'Who's wearing a thong?' she repeated, turning her back on Billy so that he could see the truth.

'Well, anyway, it still isn't appropriate,' Billy said.

'What isn't?'

'That skirt.'

'It's your behaviour that isn't appropriate,' Angela interrupted. 'What a nerve! Day in, day out, you undress us with your eyes, and now you have the cheek to tell us what clothes are appropriate.'

'Undress you with my eyes? That's garbage, and you know it.'

'You do it all the time. You were doing it just now when you were talking to me before Polly came in.'

'I was not!' Billy insisted.

'Of course you were. I could feel it. I could feel it as you mentally undressed me. It's humiliating.'

'You're living in a world of your own imagining,' Billy scoffed. 'And besides, even if I did mentally undress you, which I don't, what's it got to do with you? Thought's free, isn't it?

'Wo, wo, wo, here we go!' Angela mocked. 'All right, Mr Free Thinker, if thought's free, mentally undress me. Go ahead! What underwear am I wearing?'

'I'm not playing along with this,' Billy protested.

'Come on, Thought's Free! What underwear am I wearing?'

'Well, since you ask,' Billy sneered, 'I know exactly what underwear you're wearing.'

'What's that, then?'

'A sensible white bra and sensible white panties,'

I couldn't help laughing out loud at that one.

'Is that so?' asked Angela. 'Is that so? Quite large, then, these panties?'

'Sensibly large, yes,' Billy insisted.

'Well, let's see, then,' said Angela.

And with that, she undid the buttons down the front of her dress and let it fall open. She was wearing a tiny bright red bra, from which her ample breasts seemed about to burst out, and an even tinier bright red g-string. It barely covered her sex.

The contrast was undoubtedly startling - that innocent-looking, cool summer dress, and those hot pieces of underwear.

Angela lifted her dress and turned round to confirm that she was wearing a g-string. Then she released the dress and turned to face Billy again.

'So what do you say to that, then? Is that appropriate?' she asked.

Billy was lost for words as Angela slowly did up her dress.

'Well, since we've started,' I said, 'I think we should all do it. So what about me, Billy? What am I wearing?'

'A white blouse and black skirt. With tights or stockings,' he replied.

'But that's the point, isn't it? Which are they? Undress me, Billy. Undress me with your eyes. Are they tights or stockings?'

'Tights.'

'And what about the rest of my underwear?' I pursued.

'White bra and white tanga briefs.'

I unbuttoned my blouse and took it off. I was wearing one of those black bras that do wonders for your bust.

'White bra?' I mocked.

Coolly, I unzipped my skirt and slipped out of it. Black suspender-belt, black tanga briefs, black stockings.

'Not very close, Billy, were you?'

'Well, you're wearing tanga briefs.'

'Ooh! One out of four! Impressive!'

Angela and Polly laughed.

'And now it's out turn,' I said. 'What do you think, girls? What's he wearing?'

'Sensible white y-fronts,' said Angela.

'Hideous grey midi briefs,' said Polly.

'No, no!' I corrected. 'Boxer shorts, definitely. With some sort of ridiculous design. Dogs or baseball players or violins. You know the sort of thing.'

'Yeah,' said Angela.

'Well, you'll never know, will you?' Billy jeered.

'Oh, we'll know. We'll know,' I retorted. 'We'll know in a matter of seconds.'

And with that, the three of us ganged up on him. Billy pantomimed a show of resistance, but we soon had him out of his jacket. Next, we removed his tie, and then his shirt.

'No undershirt,' Polly observed.

Angela and Polly pinned Billy's arms behind his back. I undid his belt and unzipped his suit pants. I bent down and took off his shoes. Finally, I undid the fastener at his waist and pulled his suit pants down. Again, I bent down and tugged them off his feet.

Angela and Polly sprang forward. We all looked at Billy's crutch.

'Well, there's a surprise! Bikini briefs!' I said.

'With blue and white stripes!' said Polly.

'Daring cut,' I said. 'What would you say, girls? Appropriate?'

'I'm not complaining,' Polly replied.

'Hang on a minute!' Angela interrupted. 'Hang on a minute!'

She walked up to Billy and forcefully turned him round.

'My God!' she said. 'It's a thong! Can you believe that? After all he said, the guy's standing here in a fucking thong! Can you beat that?'

And sure enough, Billy was wearing the blue and white thong I'd bought for him the day before. (Of course he was! I'd told him to wear it!)

'He accuses Polly of wearing a thong,' Angela continued. 'He's stunned when I turn out to be wearing a g-string. He hasn't got a clue what you're wearing. And all the time, he's standing there in that thing! What can you say?'

'You're right,' I agreed. 'It's outrageous. I'm sorry, Billy, I'm going to have to punish you.'

'Yeah, right,' Billy mocked.

'Bend him over my desk, girls.'

Angela and Polly dragged Billy over to my desk. The bent him over it. I squatted down and pulled his feet apart, looking up to savour the cute curvaceous butt that was more or less level with my head.

I stood at his side and gently fondled and stroked his butt cheeks.

'It's going to sting,' I said. 'Here and here and here.'

I squeezed different parts of his buttocks.

'And it isn't going to be like this,' I said.

I lightly spanked his left buttock.

'No, it isn't going to be like this,' I repeated.

I lightly spanked his right buttock.

'No, no. I'm going to spank you hard. But the question is, when? How long will you have to wait? How long will you have to wait for the first smack? And the next? And the next?

I raised my right hand high above my head and paused. Up to this point, the audience had been fairly raucous - laughing in the right places, jeering at Billy's chauvinist comments, cheering when his pants came down, bursting into laughter and applause when the thong back was revealed. Now they were completely silent.

I waited for a good thirty seconds, then brought my hand down on Billy's left buttock very hard. A loud smack was heard as his ass cheek rippled. Again, I raised my hand and paused - this time for about twenty seconds - before spanking his right cheek equally hard.

Sometimes I paused for thirty seconds, sometimes for only five or so, sometimes not at all. Often I would alternate pauses with bursts of continuous spanking.

SMACK!

SMACK SMACK SMACK!

SMACK!

SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK!

On and on for minutes.

I formulated a plan in my mind. I would spank Billy until his buttocks were a deep red. I would then spank him thirty more times. That way, I could be sure that his buttocks were truly burning.

I carried out this plan and then paused.

'I should think he's had enough, girls. Wouldn't you?' I asked.

They agreed.

'What do you say Billy? Have you had enough?'

'Yes,' he groaned.

'Good, because I haven't!'

And with that, I yanked his thong under-strap up his back and spanked him again a further thirty times, very hard.

When I'd finally finished, I left Billy bent over the desk for about a minute. The audience clapped and cheered. Then I got Angela and Polly to stand Billy up and turn him round.

'My God!' I said. 'The guy's got a hard-on.'

And sure enough, Billy prick had produced an enormous bulge in his pouch.

'I suppose you'd like to fuck us, wouldn't you?' Angela asked. 'That's what you do in your head every day. Undress us and fuck us. Don't you?'

'Well, this time, we will fuck him,' I said.

Without warning, I yanked down his thong. His penis sprang up with a jerk.

'Lie him on my desk,' I commanded.

Polly and Angela dragged him to the desk and forced him to lie back on it. His thong hung from his ankles. I whipped it off.

'Now raise your knees and spread 'em!' I ordered.

'What?' Billy asked, incredulous.

'You heard me. Raise your knees and spread 'em like a little whore!'

Billy didn't move.

'Do you want another spanking,' I asked.

Billy raised his knees and spread his legs wide apart. His dark red anus was deliciously revealed beneath his swelling balls.

'Hold his knees,' I instructed.

Angela and Polly grasped them firmly and held them in place.

I opened the desk drawer and took out a bottle of baby oil. I opened the cap and aimed the nozzle at Billy's asshole. I squeezed the bottle hard. A powerful jet of baby oil smacked against his hole. I fired another jet, and another, until his anus was sopping and the oil had dribbled down and pooled on the desk.

'Look at that,' I said. 'He's soaking. His little cunt's simply gagging for it.'

Once more I reached into the drawer, this time bringing out a dildo. It was an exact replica of a penis, about seven inches long, complete with balls. I placed it on Billy's stomach.

'What the hell's that?' he asked.

'It's my prick,' I said. 'I'm going to fuck you.'

I rummaged in the drawer and brought out the tube of lubricant I'd placed there with the other props before the start of the show. This too I lay on Billy's stomach, next to the dildo.

'But first,' I said, 'we mustn't forget the foreplay.'

I circled and dabbed at the top of Billy's asshole with my finger.

'Do you like that?' I asked. 'Do you like it when I massage your clitoris? Of course you do. You love it. Look at how wet your cunt is! You're loving it!'

I continued with this 'clitoral' stimulation for about a minute, then paused.

'And now would you like to feel my finger inside you? Would you? Would you like that?'

I coated my middle finger in lubricant and slowly inserted it into Billy's anus.