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Photos Of Naked Gay Boys

e huge wrought-iron gate in tall brick wall that enclosed Charisma’s ten-acre estate. After she’d identified herself to the butler who’d responded to her pressing of the bell beside the gate, the massive gateway opened, admitting her, and Tiffany drove up the quarter mile driveway that led to the mansion at the top of the knoll. Charisma’s chauffeur met her, whisking her car away as she walked up the wide, steep flight of marble stairs that led to the porch at the front of the massive stone house. She stood before the tall, heavy black doors with their gold-plated knocker, knob, and frame, and rang the bell to announce her presence. The butler answered. „Please, do come in,“ he incited in the same arrogant tone of voice he’d used in communicating with her over the intercom when she’d been parked outside the gate. „Madam will see you forthwith.“ Tiffany followed the tuxedo-garbed servant through the luxuriously appointed lobby and into a parlor full of antique furniture. She seated herself on a large, comfortable couch upholstered in

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red velvet, surveying the room. The furnishings were elegant and opulent, indicating the wealth of the mansion’s mistress more eloquently than words or reputation could hope to have done. Tiffany glanced at the sapphire necklace, the violet velvet blouse, and the black leather mini-skirt and matching thigh-high boots she wore, hoping that Charisma would not think her hopelessly gauche and vulgar. Her breasts, enhanced by the wonderful brassiere that Charisma had created, gave her some confidence. She knew that many menand womenfound her costume sexy and her physical charms sexier. She hoped that Charisma would also find her attractive. „Hello, my dear!“ Tiffany rose, blushing, as her hostess entered the room. „My, but you are a lovely young thing,“ Charisma said, her eyes sparkling as her gaze swept over Tiffany’s figure. „Oh, but your breasts are superb!“ Tiffany blushed. „Thanks to you,“ she said. „Your brassiereit’s amazing.“ „Nonsense. It can enhance only those charms that belong to you by the grace of God.“ „In my case, I had

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a little help,“ Tiffany demurred. In answer to her hostess‘ arched eyebrow, Tiffany explained, „I’m a shemale.“ Charisma studied Tiffany’s cleavage. „You haven’t had surgery there,“ she concluded. Tiffany smiled. „No, just hormones.“ „They’re lovely.“ „I have you to thank for that.“ „Nonsense. As I said, my brassiere can enhance only those charms that belong to youwhether by God’s grace or through a little hormonal assistance.“ „When I saw what your bra does for my figure, I just had to thank you,“ Tiffany gushed. Charisma sat on the couch and patted the cushion next to her. „Please, sit.“ Tiffany sat. „Seeing what it does for youboth the inner and the outer youis all the thanks I need,“ Charisma declared. „I would like to see you without the braand without the blouseif I may.“ Tiffany reddened, but she did as she was bidden, removing the velvet blouse and the lavender brassiere beneath and placing both carefully on the cushion between her and her hostess. She was shocked when she realized that her breasts remained as full and pr

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onounced as they’d been while she’d been wearing the brassiere. She stared at her enlarged breasts, confusion, fear, and delight on her astonished countenance. Charisma grinned at Tiffany’s confusion. „I’m a sorceress,“ she confided, „and my apparel is enchanted. Once its effects occur, they are permanent. Your breasts will remain forever their new, increased size, whether you wear the brassiere or not.“ „But how? I mean, really? I mean“ Charisma laughed. „I told you,“ she said. „I’m magic. My clothes are magic. Now, youor, rather, your breastsare magic, too.“ Tiffany cupped her enlarged breasts in her hands and squeezed them. They were real, not an illusion. They were genuine, not a fantasy. „Wow!“ Charisma’s hands swept over Tiffany’s breasts. The enchantress‘ long, slender fingers curled as they compressed the silken mounds, making deep indentations in the ivory flesh. Tiffany moaned, letting her own hands fall from her bosom as she squirmed on the couch, angling her upper body toward her hostess. „I was impressed,“ Charisma co

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nfided to her guest, „by your perseverance in locating me, just so you could thank me for having fashioned the brassiere that gave you these exquisite breasts.“ Tiffany groaned, feeling her nipples respond to Charisma’s fondling hands and stroking fingers. Her cock also bulged, forming a tent of the front of her black leather mini-skirt. „How did you know I’dpersevered?“ Tiffany asked. „Mr. Fenner and Ms. DeeversMartin and Blancheinformed me, of course.“ The real estate agent and the beautician, Tiffany identified Charisma’s informants. „I see,“ she said. She felt the stiffness of her cock, insistent beneath her mini-skirt, and she was aware of how it jutted from her groin, just as she was conscious of how her nipples protruded from the centers of her swollen areolas. She swallowed, embarrassed. But Charisma not only seemed not to mind these exhibitions of her guest’s ardor, but also to enjoy them. „What I didn’t realize,“ the sorceress said, smiling, „was that you are a shemale.“ Tiffany gulped. She hoped that her transgendered s

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tatus wasn’t offensive to her hostess. Tiffany sure didn’t want a sorceress to be annoyed at her. „I hope that’s all right with you,“ she said, her voice trembling. While she continued to knead and squeeze and stroke first one and then the other of Tiffany’s new and improved breasts with her left hand, Charisma reached up Tiffany’s mini-skirt with her right hand and caressed Tiffany’s genitals. „Nonsense,“ she said. „I think shemales are the sexiest creatures on the planet.“ Charisma’s lips found Tiffany’s, and the sorceress seamstress kissed her shemale visitor hard before slipping the tip of her moist pink tongue into the soft red cavern of Tiffany’s warm, wet mouth. . . . to be continued. . . .em Firstly, on behalf of Roberta and myself may I thank you all very much for your very generous votes. em We now continue Roberta’s story and it is the morning after and tranny Roberta views the video of her big wedding day before a shopping trip and an exciting public photo call. * * * * * Next morning, I was awoken by a very excited Jo

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hn. Come and see this, he blurted out. I arose, my boy pussy still very sore from my wedding night, my bridal gown scattered over the bed, my petticoats in a heap on the floor, my veil in the bed beside me. I slipped into my pink chiffon negligee and went to see what all the excitement was about. John had been up early editing down the footage from two video cameras, those which had recorded our wedding and the surrender of my boy pussy to him. The girls, Jodie and Julie were also in sheer negligees and John’s wife Margaret in a black baby doll. He was naked, his ramrod stiff as a consequence of what he had just watched before waking the rest of us up. We all found chairs and watched as John began the video of his rough cuts. A grey screen soon faded away and there I was at the back of the house holding hands with Sarah as she swished up my mass of petticoats and admired my gorgeous gown. John was filming us from the raised decking and gained some nice close up shots of my girly face as Margaret adjusted my veils. As I watched the

video I was amazed how the volume of the skirt of my bridal gown accentuated my slender waist and pert breasts. It felt fantastic wearing it and it looked superb watching it. Suddenly, the shot changed and there I was kneeling on the bench licking and sucking at my lovers‘ shaft as I took my vows of marriage to him. I formed a little nest with my veil and held his balls in my right hand as I licked at the them and then ran my tongue up his entire length to lick his already forming pre cum as it oozed from the swollen head of his knob. Greedily I tried to swallow him when I saw Sarah holding the camera close to catch my action. I was loving it and smiled. The shot suddenly changed again and my smile was gone, replaced by my grimacing face as I knelt on the table top, my bridal gown and masses of petticoats piled onto my back, my veil dishevelled and the pain excruciating. Ow, ow, ow, I could be heard crying as the camera cut to a shot of my pussy being forced apart by the head of a long thick cock. Stop, stop, please stop, I reque

sted and he gave me a few seconds before continuing. My face filled the screen again, contorted, beads of sweat on my brow, a cushion placed at my head for me to push my face into whenever I was about to cry out, an attempt to quell the noise I was making rather than to

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