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Many thanks to neuroparenthetical, who edited this story.

For those of you that have not read the previous parts: I’m Evan, twenty one. Stella is a boy, a girl and a slut. She’s a twenty four years old man. I’ve been seeing and fucking her for a while now, but she’s adamant we’re not together.

***

He’s with his feet and hands on a dining chair and he’s facing up, butt raised in the air and pushed forward, almost over the seat. He leans back, shoulders against the top of the chair’s tall back. I’m squatting in front of him, with my hand fully inside his ass. My hard cock points in the same direction as my arm, and shakes with every thrust I give his ass. His body is covered in a fine film of sweat.

We’re in the kitchen at my place downtown — an arm’s length from the window.

He moves his ass up and down, forward and back, sometimes to follow or meet my hand, sometimes to retreat from it. His legs are closing and opening. He sometimes raises on the tips of his fingers to push himself forward and come closer. Other times he takes one hand off the chair and placing it on my shoulder, pulls me closer and pushes his ass onto my hand.

His tits are shaking as my hand enters and exits him. His cock and balls are waving. His body is tensed His abdominal muscle forms a bridge between her groin and chest, the muscles on his upper chest tense and relax as he changes position, and the muscles on the front of his thighs are tensed and arching between joints.

The long dangling pieces attached to his earlobes brush over his shoulder and chains attached to his belly button ring roll over his abdomen. He has a large ring in his septum, large rings in his nipples and a second pair of small rings higher on his ears. On top of that, he wears a chain necklace and a rich assortment of bracelets, rings and ankle chains.

I rise on my feet. He leans forward. Our mouths meet and when we kiss, I slow down the movement of my hand in and out his ass. Then he leans back and with a hand on my wrist, pushes mine deeper. Piss drips and sometimes flows from his soft, small cock when my hand presses into his abdomen.

Emotions flash on his face. He shakes his head and then he nods. He opens his mouth as if to say something, then pushes his head back and rolls his eyes up.

He puts his arms around my shoulders again, and I help him climb on my body, legs around my waist. I carry him to the bedroom, without taking my hand out of his ass. I lay him on his back in the damp bed. The sheets are already soaked in sweat from the earlier action. He crawls backwards to the top of the bed, pulling my captive hand with him, and props himself up on pillows. I sit myself in front of him and work his ass. The pervert grabs and shakes his balls lewdly, all the while looking at me straight in the eyes and licking his lips. I replace the hand I have in his gut with my dick and give him a little fuck. He caresses my face and gives me his own fucking — two fingers in my mouth. I alternate fisting and fucking and I kiss his pretty face. He entertains me with little lascivious acts like the ones before.

The last few months have been like that — many days of senselessly fucking Stella in the afternoon at my place or hers, but usually my downtown flat. The summer days are hot and bright and each one feels just like that before it. The passing of time has blurred and morphed into fucking, sweat, piss, skin, penetration sounds and the ever changing colors of his hair.

I have my fingers deep in his ass most of the times we have sex. Serious fisting is a rarer occurrence.

Sometimes I get more serious about hurting his balls. I squeeze or slap them while I fuck him — from behind or face to face. Or I do that while I kiss him.He stands or sits and usually holds me tight. He often has one arm around my shoulders and eats my mouth hungrily. I have fun punishing the testicles of the boy who offers himself to me with his legs spread wide. He winces and squirms and occasionally screams, he moans and cries, and he calls me names and plays angry or upset, but he always clings to me. And he never asks me to stop doing it.

Not today, though. Today we roll in bed and he gets on top. He squats over me and fits my dick in his ass, before starting to grind me slowly. Half of the time he leans forward to kiss me, and though this stretches him uncomfortably, he does not stop rocking his body up and down over my shaft. When he pauses, it is to suck my dick with zest. He licks it from tip to balls and leaves behind a lot of spit, before sitting back on it.

We move back to the kitchen — this time crawling. I’m on top of him and he tries to get away. I catch him every few paces, collapse him on the floor, then fuck him, until he manages to slip from underneath me again. He’s slim and slithery. Our sweaty bodies make his escape easy. He raises himself up on his arms and drags his body on the floor, but his long legs betray him. They lag too far behind him, and I always catch Avrupa yakası travesti one of his ankles.

We reach the fridge on the floor, open its door and drink thirstily from a pitcher of cool water inside. Then there’s more fucking, with him bent over the table or the counter, in front of the open window. The breeze coming in helps us cool off a bit. He turns and stands, pressed between my body and the counter at his back. My cock pushes against his abdomen. The strange thought of making him pregnant occurs to me, probably because he looks so much like a girl. I laugh and he laughs with me.

“Come,” he says.

He takes me to the balcony, where he gets me to sit on a deck chair before straddling me. He rides me slowly, changing his posture often. He leans forward to kiss me. He sits straight up and places my hands resting on his stretch marked buttocks, or encourages me to pull his nipples. He leans back to give me the sight of his bouncing cock and balls. We can’t be seen from the street where we are, but people in nearby and on higher balconies are sure to be having fun watching us.

Though we’re in the shade, the heat and exertion have made us sweat more. Our bodies become too slippery to hold and we need to cool off. Like every other day of fucking, we break our entanglement and head to the cool of the bathroom.

But before we get clean, we get dirty. He sits on the bowl and pisses. Some days he leaves a trail of piss all the way to the bathroom, pissing as he goes or wherever I stop him to kiss him or probe his ass with my dick or fingers. When he’s on the toilet, I piss all over his face and in his open mouth. He drinks my piss and then I kiss his face.

Or we do it on the shower floor. He kneels or sits with his legs bent in front of him, knees under shoulders. I piss over his head, soaking his hair in urine. Or I piss on his back, chest, legs or useless male genitals. I do make a point to remind him just what a pathetic specimen of a man he is and how he can aspire to no more than being a urinal for other males. All I get for my ridicule is a happy kiss on the tip of my dick.

Or I fuck him. He is on his back, holding his legs spread wide with his arms. I thrust into his butt, which is raised from the floor and ask him to piss on himself. I try — or even more to my liking, he tries — to direct the stream of piss onto his face and into his mouth. I have to raise his lower body high above the floor, but we got this act working to near perfection. I take my cock out of his hole and try to hit his face with my own jet of yellow warmth.

Or when I want to tell him he’s been a naughty boy, I have him pis in my cupped hand while standing and then I wash his face with his own piss. I hold out the vain hope that this kind of humiliating treatment teaches him something, but he giggles and tries to lick the urine from my fingers. Then he forces his tongue into my mouth and kisses me excitedly. For my part, I turn him around so he’s facing the wall and fuck his ass. And sometimes, I fill his belly with my piss.

Then we shower and I wash his hair. Maybe it’s its softness and length, but I’ve grown fond of shampooing it, and of fucking Stella in the ass while his head is covered in foam and he cannot open his eyes. I fuck him standing as he’s blind and completely within my power. Then I push him down on his knees. He sucks my dick as I rinse his hair. The dumbass does not understand the nature of my abuse, and instead he’s cheerful and grateful.

We leave the shower dripping wet. He leads and I follow. Every few paces I catch up with him and press his shoulders against the wall. We kiss.

“Bugger!” he calls me.

“Faggot!” I answer.

I raise his arms above his head and pin his hands together on the wall. Then I slap his tits.

“Twerp!”

“Asswipe!”

I turn him around and lock his arms behind his back. The side of his face is pressing against the wall. I study his long, pale body and girly ass for a moment, before sticking two fingers in his hole.

“Wanker!”

“Wimp!”

I slap his ass and watch the wavy motion of his buttocks, utterly transfixed.

He breaks free from my lock and turns to face me. He puts both of his hands on my head and neck and brings his face to mine. He eats my mouth hungrily.

By the time we make it to the bedroom, both his tits and behind have a healthy reddish color.

“Do you fancy getting your ass fucked, girly boy?”

“If that’s a change from getting my butt thrashed.”

The bed is still the same damp mess as before and we proceed to change the beddings. We spread the sheets from opposite sides. I catch him bent over the edge, busy tucking them under the mattress. His little, hairless balls dangle attractively between his smooth legs, calling for a little love. I oblige with a rightly weighted slap.

“Stop it!” he berates me.

I would, but the swing like motion of his pathetic, delightful junk compels Avrupa yakası travestileri me I don’t.

“Dickhead!” he screeches angrily after I hit him again. “You can’t mistreat me like that!” He stands and glares at me. I lay a small kiss on his cheek to tell him he’s cute.

He gets back to making up the bed, legs spread even wider. I give him another smack.

He sits hurriedly on the bed, looking very upset. I sit by his side and search his bright, sweet face. I caress his cheek. His expression changes and now he looks like he’s about to cry. He throws his arms around me and puts his head on my shoulder. I put my own arm around his waist and hold him.

When he looks back at me, there’s determination on his face. “I’m going to suck your dick,” he declares.

He sits on his knees in front of me and I spread my legs for him. He rubs my cock in his face and fondles my balls at the same time. Then he gives me a sample of his deep throating technique, taking the entire length of my shaft. Though skilled, he’s not a great fan of this type of activity and switches quickly to kissing and tonguing my dick, tip to balls. The latter he licks and sucks one at a time, leaving them dripping his saliva. I drop a couple of spitballs in his mouth before he moves his attention back to my dick. The vigor he puts into sucking is endearing and I reward it with kisses and ruffling his hair.

When he’s dumped a good amount of spit on my junk and he’s satisfied with the shine he put on it, he stands and we finish making up the bed. Then we climb in it from opposite sides and meet in the middle. We lie face to face and study each other. I caress his chest, squeeze his tits and roll and pinch his nipples. He holds my dick and cups my balls. Our lips meet for little kisses.

He takes the hand that’s tormenting his nipples and puts it between his legs. I cup his cock and balls. He pulls his cock out of my hand and closes it for a snugger fit around his balls.

“Hurt me,” he says.

I let him wait and when I take too long, his boyish hand closes over mine. I squeeze gently and watch his eyes widening and mouth opening. I press, roll and twist his little balls and he makes cute, pained faces and noises.

“Make me a girl,” he moans barely audible.

“I like you a boy,” I tell him.

He sighs defeated.

“Besides,” I continue, “crushing your small, useless testicles will not make you a girl.”

He rolls his eyes. “Do it anyway.”

“You do not really want that, sweetie.”

“No, no I don’t.” He kisses me. “But wouldn’t it be cute?”

He turns around and I spoon him. He reaches between his legs and finds my dick. I put my hand on his hip. He places my cock on his hole and I push it. I fuck him in my least favorite position. He turns his head and with his hand under my face, he kisses me.

He takes my hand and places it between his legs. He’s not done feeling it there. I like the touch of his crotch and I get good leverage thrusting him.

When he’s had enough of my mouth, he curls up away from me and enjoys my thrusting.

I don’t quite know what sort of fucking is this and even less that I like it. The contact between our bodies is limited to his butt and my groin. The position is not sexy. Rubbing one side against the sheets with every push starts to give me carpet burn. And fucking him feels like nothing at all — he’s way too loose and far too lubricated with sweat seeped in.

I amuse myself by raising his legs in the air. He has them bent, almost knees to face. I put my hand under his upper thigh and push his leg up. This exposes his genitals for a little abuse and I offer some rough fondling, my hand coming from under his legs. He mutters and groans and I feel better already. Next I force him to extend his leg fully upwards. I like his legs. They’re shapely and fit — not thin, nor thick, and a bit masculine below the knee. The sight of one inspires me to try for more. I maneuver him on his back, with both legs extended straight up and held together, all without removing my dick from his hospitable butt.

His body is the vertical bar of a T that’s completed by mine. I keep fucking him, but my slamming into his butt pushes him away. We try to hold on to each other, and lock our arms between his legs.

After much toiling in this and other unusual, slow fucking positions, I lay him prone and climb on top of him. Then I start slamming his bottom with renewed impetus. Each of my forceful thrusts sends ripples through his fatty ass. It is now sticky with lube and sweat and makes most pleasant sloshing sounds. Fucking is great again.

It’s too good to last very long, and for this reason, I take pauses to work his lower body differently. I pull my dick out of his lax rectum and examine his beautiful behind. His buttocks have a nice reddish hue from the earlier abuse. I give them a good, little smacking to improve it. He clenches his butt and makes little muffled noises, but Travesti avrupa yakası doesn’t protest further. I think he may be biting on a pillow, but I do not bother to make sure. I turn my attention to his inner thighs and give them a series of loud, sharp slaps. His moaning grows louder and he tenses his legs, but rather than trying to get away, he spreads his legs further to give me an unimpeded access.

I stick my dick in his hot, soft hole and start pumping him again. I marvel as always at the sight of his fit back. It arches charmingly from waist to neck and side to side, with a deep valley dividing it into two halves.

He pulls up from underneath me and turns on his back. He raises his legs and pulls them down and out with his hands. I mount him again and secure myself against his taut midriff. I make a gesture of slapping him over his cheeks and he turns his face away in mock displeasure. His head bobs on the pillow. His hands rest on my butt. His eyes are half closed. His expression is absence. I fuck him and he looks like he can take it forever.

Then again, maybe he doesn’t. He lowers his legs and locks them over my waist. I lean down further over him, my face above his. He turns his head to look at me and raises it, yearning for my lips. I kiss and fuck him slowly. His arms go under mine, his hands running over my back.

His kisses are a lot more exciting than probing his innards. That’s how fucking feels right now — like I have lost my cock in his abdominal cavity, amidst his guts. He sucks and chews on my lips. His pierced tongue penetrates deeply into my mouth, exploring it from wall to wall. I get the sense that he’s fucking me more than I’m fucking him.

My arousal grows and spreads throughout my body. I swallow my undignified moans. My cock expands inside his body and burns. Just like a dumb bitch, I cum involuntarily, deep in his ass. The boy fucked my brains out. I heave and shake and try to pretend I don’t feel as weak as I do. Of course it does not work. He knows. He looks at me and sweetly caresses my face like I’m his girl.

After I pull out of him, we face each other, sitting on our knees. Sweat covers our bodies. I put my hand under his ass and he pushes my cum out. This is a routine much practiced now. There’s a lot coming out of his butt. It flows over the insides of his buttocks and drips in my palms. There’s much fart noises and air bubbles. He giggles and pulls me closer to give me another kiss. I feed him a pool of fluids of uncertain color and even more dubious composition. He slurps it happily and even licks my hand clean afterwards.

He takes my hand and pushes it back between his legs. I stick two fingers in his pulpy hole and when I spread them, more pearly ooze flows out. He brings my hand to his face and sucks it dry. He swallows, and opens his mouth to show me there’s plenty left. There’s more goo all around his mouth, from his upper lip to his chin. He chuckles and I shudder knowing what’s coming.

He jumps on me and presses his face over mine. He forces my mouth open and a lot of the yucky sludge enters together with his tongue. He locks his arms over my shoulder to prevent any ill advised attempt to flee. Not that I really care to do that. I kiss him back with matching enthusiasm. We take breaks to lick each other’s cum tasting faces. He lets go of me temporarily to suck my now limp dick clean, then makes me eat his freshly reflavored mouth.

I have eaten a lot of my own cum like this lately — more than any one of my previous girlfriends had eaten.

***

After sex, we shower and usually go out. We circle the streets, eat ice-cream or drink tea and rest on a terrace, but more often in the park across the street.

Dressed, Stella becomes a young woman and calling her a `he’ is untenable. Today she wears a white round skirt that covers the upper half of her thighs, and a tight, white t-shirt, so worn that it could have been sheer. As if the shirt being threadbare and full of holes was not enough, she also put it on without drying herself off after our shower. It does dry out quickly in the summer heat, but even when not wet, it shows her tits and pierced nipples. The color of her nipples and even the metal shine of her bar piercings are clearly visible.

I cannot help it. I got to feel her breasts. The more inappropriate the moment is, the more inclined I am to do it. I stop her outside the building and insert my hand under her still wet t-shirt to feel her water chilled tits. Arm over her shoulders as we walk a busy street, I insert my hand through the neck opening of her t-shirt — since dried out, but still barely there — to pull her tits up by the nipples, then let them fall and watch their jelly bobbing. When we stop to get ice-cream, I squeeze her tits while we wait for the seller.

When we rest, we talk. We talk more during this sex intermission than at any other time. `Talk’ is probably too grand a word here. It’s more boy to boy conversation.

“How did you get this good at sucking dick?” I ask her. Him.

“It came naturally to me.”

“Did it really?”

“I don’t remember now,” he claims dubiously. “It’s been a long time. They kept sticking it in my mouth. I had to get used to it.”

“My jaw hurts when I suck dick for any any serious length of time,” I confess.

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