Quick and Dirty

Hello again, my lovely, horny little friends 👋😄

I'm Jack, the little femboy who somehow managed to make Tucker -- my Dad's straight friend and colleague -- fuck my brains out in a shower container.

So just in case you missed it: Feel free to read part 1 of my little series to catch up in wonderful, graphic detail 😉.

For this second episode, I wanna tell you what an obsessive twink I became in the wake of that encounter. Yay 🥳

Aftermath

Aftermath

To be fair, let me give you a little head... uh... I mean heads-up first:

After what happened between Tucker and me in that container, I'd absolutely love to share a very steamy follow-up about how Tucker immediately adopted me as his happy cum dump fucktoy forever. But the unfortunate reality is that's not what happened 😩.

Well, at least not right away (😜← teaser wink of teasing).

Now, I told you about what role Tucker played in my life when I was a teen. The immense crush I had on him. How hard it was to let that crush go as I got older, coming to grips with the realities of life. No need to repeat it all here, I guess.

The reason I mention all this, however, is so you can understand the gravity of it all for me.

You see... ever since I've managed to stop thinking about Tucker whenever I shoved my little toys into me as a teen, I always thought I was never -- not in a million years -- going to get involved with someone like him for real. Because as much as I hate to admit it: I never thought myself attractive enough to make a man like him actually want someone like me. In Jack's horny little world, a guy like Tucker was reserved for super hot chicks, and certainly unavailable for femboy Jack at half his age.

So when adult-me got his anal dose of Tucker's big cock in that container, it wasn't just sex for me. My whole life got turned around 180 degrees 🥰.

The man didn't just fuck me. His cum literally shot me right back into full blown nymphomaniac fixation and obsession for him.

And it wasn't just that, either.

Let me put it like this... If you're a young femboy like me and you've only ever had sex with mostly insecure, inexperienced guys around your age,I need to warn you:

The second a man like Tucker puts his hands on you, with that grit and dominance of a real, hard working man's muscle, whatever you think you know about sex and your body is literally smashed out of your brain for good. And I meanreally fucking good.

Your ass will be thoroughly sore for several days 😅. You'll have trouble walking. But you'll walk away a different person. A very happy,cum-filledperson.

The catch? It's simple:You will never want to have sex any other way ever again🤷‍♂️

And so--after my impulses somehow managed to make him fuck me silly in a matter of a few minutes, those same impulses made me blow Tucker's WhatsApp the hell up in the aftermath of our container-quickie.

I spammed him like a crazy person. Begged for him to please--pretty please with a big load of semen on top--meet me again, take me somewhere secret, and rail me to crying tears, ASAP.

Unfortunately, Tucker didn't feel quite the same way. 😓😩😭

Torture

Torture

To say that he left me to starve would be putting it mildly.

Tucker didn't just not reply to any of my needy texts. They didn't even get the courtesy of two blue check marks before he went ahead and blocked me 😦.

When he visited our house (which was fairly frequent, him and dad work together), he just kind of ignored me. Acted as if nothing ever happened.

I tried to approach him, twice, while he was waiting for dad, outside in his truck, but he wouldn't have it. Instead he just looked at me, shook his head with a brisk and unmistakably forbidding "Hey." and left me hanging, his gaze letting me know I was to leave him alone.

This went on for the better part of two months.

No matter what I tried to get his attention, get him to talk to me, calling him on the phone, all of it wasn't just met with refusal. He straight up ignored me.

It was devastating.

I spent most of those nights frantically fucking myself on my various dildos, trying whatever I could to imitate what I had with him in that shower container. A few minutes of that and I'd give up in desperation, ashamed of myself, sobbing myself to sleep.

During the days I had trouble focusing on anyone or anything, because I just couldn't stop thinking about the way he held me so tight. The intense hardness and strength of him, the way he suspended me in the air as if I was his mindless sex-doll, and yet embraced me and kissed me with a passion unlike anything I've ever felt before.

Every morning I opened my lids and he was right there in front of my mind's eye. The image of him rendered me unwilling to get out of bed. Because I'd rather close my eyes back into that dream and lose myself in the memories of how mindblowingly good this man's lips felt on me. The longing. The constant flashbacks of losing my breath in pure ecstasy as he unleashed himself deep in me. How his rough hands caressed my body, holding me as our tongues played. Fantasies of him right next to me in my bed, his big cock filling every part of me as he pulled my hips where they belonged.

Contemplation weaved into those memories. I kept wondering whether everything I felt during that moment with him was just me falling for the illusion of him wanting me as much as I wanted him.

And of course you'd think weeks worth of such denial and frustration would make me lose interest eventually, write him off as an egotistical prick who just used the opportunity to bust a nut and then throw me away.

But it didn't. Because I knew deep down he wasn't that kind of guy. My obsession with him only ever got worse whenever I saw him.

Every time I met Tucker, watched him move all that muscle of his around, I fell for him more, convincing myself he was giving me teases, while he kept treating me like I didn't exist.

He averted eye contact without so much as a hint of guilt. Talked to me as if I was nothing more than his friend's son, while giving me brief, knowing looks to tell me he was perfectly aware of our situation.

It was brutal.

My mood swings got bad.Really bad. To the point where I'd have to make up bullshit excuses just to convince mom that my increasingly depressed outbursts were just me going through a bit of a rough patch with studies and stuff.

Even now as I write this, it's really hard to put that emotional roller-coaster into words.

And if that all wasn't enough, I couldn't bring myself to do what I should have done. Instead, I kept fanning the flames.

Escalation

Escalation

About two months into this grueling ordeal we had another one of our big summer barbecues around the fireplace outside of our house. Just a nice get together on our meadow, around the big table for our family of twenty or so people.

Everything you'd need for a great day was there: drinks, brisket, ribs, kids playing, funny conversations, funnier stories by gramps. It was lovely.

Dad and Tucker pulled up a little late to the party, though. They had spent the day doing plumbing and framing on another large construction site.

And my god... Tucker looked so god damn amazing when they arrived 😫.

His tan shined in the sun like he was some freaking Spartan, getting out of his truck. The day's work was fresh on him as he said hi to everyone; t-shirt clinging tight to his ripped biceps. Pecs flexing into it whenever he sliced a piece off of his steak. It was so fucking hard to stop myself from constantly looking at him. And we even shared a few laughs in small talk. Yet, he was still as cold and distant as ever.

But that didn't stop me in my need to be close to him. So I sneaked my way into sitting right next to him at the table, pretending I was hungry for chicken even though the only thing I was hungry for was his cock in me.

Just a casual brush of his hand against my arm as I purposely reached for the same bowl of coleslaw, a fleeting look, a smile--I was tingling all over, struggling hard to control myself in his scent.

I snuck my hand under the table and touched his thigh. He pulled away and gave me a brief look:stop it.

Later that evening, when I caught him alone in the kitchen for a short moment, I tried confronting him. Aching for him to tell me what's going on, even if we only had time for a few hushed words.

"Why the cold shoulder? Did I do something wrong?" I whispered at him.

But he blocked me off yet again. Pretended there was nothing to talk about except where to find some motherfucking baguette.

That incident, my friends, crushed me.

Reduced to a shattered mess at that point, I huffed my pain at him loud enough for everyone nearby to hear and stormed off, leaving him there in the kitchen, running for my annex in our thankfully big house so I could be alone.

Trying and failing to fight back the tears kept me awake until late at night, agonized in the worst mix of desire and rejection I had ever felt in my life. I got really fucking angry. And yet, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't manage to be angry at Tucker. It was the realization I'd never get to feel his hands on me again that devastated me.

So I laid in my bed, desperately holding on to that moment with him, while cursing him all the same for doing me that fucking dirty afterwards.

Until my phone lit up.

I grabbed it, flicked my thumb twice and stopped breathing.

Joy, fear, anger and raging desire all surged so damn hard in me. I felt dizzy for a second.

He had unblocked me 😯. Under my litany of pitiful filth and pleas, Tucker left just four words for me:

"We need to talk."

For a few breathless seconds I looked at the screen. He stayed online. Waited for me to respond.

Then he watched as I typed nervously, deleted it, typed again, deleted it again. My thumbs were literally shaking.

Eventually I found some courage and sent what I felt he needed to know:

"No shit, Sherlock! I keep trying! But you keep treating me like shit! Fuck you! 😢😢"

Late Night Surprise

Late Night Surprise

"Can you come outside?" he answered.

My brows furrowed.

Tucker's text didn't click right away, but then my heart quickly picked up its pace, realizing what it meant.

"WTF... now??" I responded, thumbs still shaking, "Are you here?!"

I watched him type.

"Yeah."

One word to kick me down the roller-coaster again.

The man knew how to push my buttons without even trying. I was barely breathing as my thumbs moved.

"Okay. Give me a minute."

I drew in a shaky breath. My chest inflated like a balloon.

Pieces fell into place in my head. I hadn't heard the engine of his pickup, so he had to be down by the street, at the end of the long driveway to our countryside home.

It kind of made sense for him to show up now, I figured. Tucker knew both my parents would be sound asleep this late. They never stayed up past twelve. It was almost 2 AM.

But then again, driving all the way back out here, unannounced, on the off chance I'd still be awake? Well, only one explanation there: Whatever Tucker needed to get off his chest, he wanted to make sure I was the only one hearing it.Or maybe more?

Fuck it, I thought.Clarity. The opportunity to finally get it shot me out of my bed and into my grey tracksuit in a heartbeat.

Whether consciously or not, I didn't bother with underwear. Not even socks.

Black Jordans slipped onto my feet and I snuck outside quietly.

Tucker waited where I knew he would, standing on the driver's side outside of his truck.

He saw me open the front door and step out on the porch--blinked the headlights once, to let me know the dark silhouette I saw in the distance was really him.

So I walked, quickly, emotions going haywire to the rhythm of my heart banging its dubstep.

Anger and resentment were certainly there, but I wasn't kidding myself. Nothing in me was capable of stopping that unspeakable attraction I felt whenever I laid eyes on him.

Even now. Even in the distance. I fucking craved the guy. And there wasn't a damn thing I could do about it.

When I finally came face to face with Tucker, eyes glistening with fearful anticipation, body shivering in the slightly cold breeze, my thoughts were already drifting down to that big pleasure tool between his legs again.Fuck me sideways. Please?

Confessions

Confessions

The tension was straight up Chris Nolan blockbuster stuff.

I couldn't say anything, just heard a menacingly deep sigh from him. No greetings. No pep talk. Tucker just went straight at what he had come here for.

"Listen, kid." he murmured his deep bass.

I rained on his parade right there, "Don'tkidme. I'm not a fucking child."

He held his breath for a second, "Right. Jack. Listen... the way I treated you these past weeks, I understand. It wasn't fair. I'm sorry."

"Yeah? Well, no shit! Sad face emoji!" I huffed, crossing my arms, both anxious and relieved to hear him apologize in person, at least. Shivers got me again. Partly due to the breeze and nervousness, more so because of him.

Despite everything he did to me, despite the anger, I was more vulnerable than ever.

Deep breaths and loaded silence told me this wasn't going to be easy. Crickets sang their foreboding summer night song around us as I braced myself. Tucker's gaze matched every bit of the sincerity in his voice. Warm light coming from inside of his car painted it across his face.

"That... quickie we had." he opened with a sigh, "I'd be lying if I said it wasn't good."

"Wasn't good?!" I blurted out the obvious understatement, flailing my arms, slapping them down to my thighs with a big hiss.

"Just--" his hand raised almost defensively before his confession struck, "It rattled me, alright. Gay sex never even crossed my mind before, so..."

"Shocker." I chuckled into his confession.

A slow nod from him, "Seeing you. Getting caught in that moment. It was--"

"Fucking amazing! Stop downplaying it!" I cut in, breathing the obvious out loud, angry, my whole body squirming in defiance of the mere hint of him trying to pretend it was anything less than it was.

"I got home and I panicked. I had to shut you out, Jack. I'm sorry." he admitted.

My laugh came softly annoyed, then. Compassion sliced into anger on my chords. I should be furious with him, but I just couldn't.

"And now look at you, big man." I broke a mean smile at him, "I get it. Your straight cock felt a little too good in tight little me? Is that it?"

Unable to stop myself from biting my lip into the memory, I watched it flash across Tucker's face. But it didn't do what I hoped it would. He stiffened and shook his head, gaze focused again, hardened by determination. Sorrow sparked in it.

"That'snotthe point." Tucker rumbled, "Yeah, it felt great, but we shouldn't do it again.We can't."

Hesitation. It took two attempts to move my lips before they managed.

"Why? What's the point?"

More determination. He tilted his head down slightly. Stiff.

"Jim and Sheila. Do you really need me to say it? You're theirchild!I was with them in the hospital when you were born, Jack!"

Implications sunk in. They shut me down well, startled me.

"I fed youbaby milkfor Christ's sake!" he said, upset, "You were a tiny thing! Small enough to fit in this hand!" he raised his palm, sounding angry at himself, "Youhaveto understand. If they find out what I..."

He couldn't even say it.

Tucker's gaze dropped to the gravel with a defeated sigh. His feet shifted somewhat nervously.

Of course I understood. Although I'll have to admit it didn't really occur to me until that moment: The real magnitude of it all. The chaos ignited in him after those wild minutes we shared.

My manic obsession didn't allow me to see just how high the stakes were for Tucker. How deeply his guilt and shame must have struck. How much he fought himself to try and do the right thing.

But it only made me crave him more.

Righteous Revenge

Righteous Revenge

Breathe.

I had to remind myself, waiting for Tucker's eyes to come back to me.

Little could he have known what was going on inside of me then 😈. The inner, horny rage he had launched me into with his confessions--It bubbled up so fast, I couldn't have controlled it if I tried. Neither did I have any intention to.

His reasons were sound. His doubts understandable.And I didn't give the slightest fuck about them.

I told you all I was obsessed with him a few too many times, now. Right or wrong, it didn't matter to me.

My mind raced lightyears in seconds. Because I knew only one thing: I was going to do whatever it would take to make him fuck me again. And so the impulses came fast. Determination right on their heels. Fear vanished. No hesitation. I let my instincts have it their way.

They were the one thing I could rely on, moving me cautiously until we were just a little more than an arm's length apart, then stopped. Because they knew he wouldn't allow me to come closer.Not yet. He was lacking a crucial part of his puzzle:Me.

With a big inhale my arms crossed again, chest high, legs straight, gaze fixed and full of confidence. It didn't make me more than a small thing compared to him, but my conviction met him at eye level.It had to.

"So let's get this straight." I broke the silence, not whispering at all, "You thought you were going to come here in the middle of the night, after torturing me for two months straight, to tell me about your guilty conscience and then just move on, leave it all behind."

Tucker didn't respond. The truth of it was plain to see.

"Just pretend none of this happened." I asserted, waving my index finger between the two of us.

"Yeah." he nodded, "It's better for both of us if we--you know."

"Well, you're right." I shrugged, seemingly unbothered by the pain I heard in him suggesting that, "I do wonder what my parents would say if they found out.Dadespecially."

Eyebrows raised. Playful sarcasm in my tone as I painted the picture for him made me shudder at my own ruthlessness.

"I mean--Ooof!" I pursed my lips into an exaggerated shiver, "Imagine the horror, if I told him how hispervertedfriend took advantage of hisinnocentson, after he sent you in there with me. Who he'd believe. You or me. What he might do.Gosh!"

Sudden shock hit Tucker's entire frame. His muscle tensed visibly.

Of course I had zero intention to blackmail him, but my intuition had found its lever. Now it pulled. Merciless in its singular purpose: Break his restraint. Shoot that fucking wall down, heavy artillery, so I could get inside of him and do what I needed to do.

Before he reacted, I raised and moved my hand, waving the picture away.

"But I'm not going to do that, Tucker." My voice softened, affection trembling at the edge of a sob. "Because webothknow that's not what happened. Webothknow how right it felt. I'dneverthrow that away."

To see his composure soften the way it did in that moment, meeting me with what he couldn't deny, I closed the distance between us before the breath of relief had left him.

My hand gently landed on his big chest, comforting as I looked up at him, telling him everything we both knew to be true without saying another word.

I kept my eyes buried in his as I stood up on my toes, reached for his hand, breathing tender as I guided it where it belonged, under my pants, on my ass.