Epilog: Whatever Happened to the Boi Cunts?
folder
Original - Misc › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
16
Views:
6,818
Reviews:
2
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Original - Misc › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
16
Views:
6,818
Reviews:
2
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction about sex between men and boys, aged 6-16. The characters, locations & incidents are fictional. Any resemblance to actual events or locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
What happened to Juanita (Pablo)?
©2010 Herb Cat. Do not reproduce or distribute this story without the author's permission.
After three years of resistance, Juanita finally discovered at BCS that she missed her brother's nightly fucks, wanted them, craved them, hungered for them, needed them. She found out that for her cunt there was no other rightful occupant than his cock. Having her hermano inside her made her complete. That month without him there left her empty, void, deserted. She vowed her boi cunt would never again spend even one day without feeling those thrusts, drinking that cum, hearing that laugh.
Their first three days back home were a whirlwind of orgiastic sex. When Raul took his morning shower or his afternoon siesta or his evening stroll to the bodega, she was always waiting to coax him back into bed.
On the fourth day, Raul told his little puta he had to go back to work. He couldn't risk losing his job. Juanita couldn't stand the long lonely hours. She did everything she could to take her mind off his beautiful cock. She cleaned their flat spotless, she froze a week's worth of meals, she laundered every item in the hamper. And then it was only noon.
She got dressed, grabbed her purse, and took a walk. Past her high school closed for the summer. The student Pablo was a stranger to her. Past the store where Pablo used to get his smokes. Juanita wouldn't smoke. Past the church where their sainted mother went to morning mass and lit candles for her children's safety in this rough neighborhood with all its senseless violence. But then it was the parents who ended up getting killed.
Juanita found herself in front of the Caridades Católicas thrift shop. There in the window she saw something she wanted. A Singer sewing machine exactly like the one Mizz Harriet had. "¿Qué hace la máquina de coser costo?" she asked the volunteer inside. They haggled a little over the price and Juanita left the store with her treasure. "Gracias, Señor Valdes," she called out as the confused volunteer tried to figure out where he had seen that face and heard that voice.
Juanita got the machine home and started hemming, mending, adapting. She found her mother's old box of notions and began adding rickrack and appliqués. She was so intent on her work, she didn't hear Raul until he opened the door. Quickly he quit mid-seam and ran into her hermano's arms. She took off his work clothes and threw them in the hamper. As he showered the day's dirt off, she heated one of the meals. They sat in their underwear and ate.
Juanita couldn't take her eyes off the dreamboat seated across from her. His wavy black hair. His riveting eyes. His latin stache. His bronze skin. His massive biceps. His perfect pecs. His protruding nipples, as erotic as they were useless, nearly as long excited as her soft clit, equally useless. His armadillo abs.
Raul took a few minutes to digest his meal while Juanita did the dishes. Then it was time to get down to the all-important business of the evening. She fluttered her eyes and took his hand. He cupped her nalgas and followed her to their bed. She turned off the light. He opened the blind. The hot burning stars in the sky had nothing on these two lovers. They knelt on the bed enveloped in each other's arms. They kissed lasciviously and ran their hands salaciously over each other's sweaty body. He removed her bra and they both silently longed for the day when the pills she took would make the falsies redundant. She pushed him down on the bed and pulled off his boxers. She knelt over him and hoovered his mantool. Already erect, it now pulsed with throbbing energy. He pulled off her panties. They both chose to ignore her oversized clitoris. It served no purpose now so it wasn't even there. She momentarily let go of his cock to take his finger in her mouth. When it was wet with her saliva, he inserted it in her boi cunt. She writhed in ecstasy and sucked him with new energy, anxious to prepare his tool for its mission. Finally, she got up over him and lowered her hungry hole on to his oozing cock. He pulled on her hips. She grunted softly and he was inside, starting his electrifying journey up her túnel del amor. When she felt his scrotum pressed against her ass, she started bouncing. Riding his joystick until finally he shot his load into her. How could she have ever been so estúpida to think this wasn't heaven? He pulled out and laughed that marvelous laugh.
For Juanita, sewing became the way to control her pent up sexual energy until her brother got home each day. She went back to the thrift shop and selected clothes that could be made more her size, more flattering, more provocative. She found they had quality yard goods at cheap prices. Señor Valdes even began saving items that came in to give her first pick.
Raul too had his work cut out for him. His loving hermana was horny as hell and if he expected her to remain faithful to him alone, he knew he had to deliver the goods every night. He couldn't even consider fucking another bitch, for he always had to be at his peak for Juanita. So the two were monogamous.
She returned to high school in September, but dropped out after a month. The classes were tedious now that she had found herself. Instead, she stayed home and studied for her GED, which she earned in January. Meanwhile she kept on sewing. She altered clothes for other women. She mended clothes for the neighborhood kids. She rarely charged her neighbors, but did accept the occasional pie or paella. As she worked, she hummed to herself,
"Soy una chica y tengo un clítoris.
Soy una chica y yo tenemos una vagina.
Soy una chica y tengo senos.
Soy una chica y mi nombre es Juanita."
In February, she enrolled in the fashion institute. When she showed the admittance officer the clothes she'd made, he overlooked her mediocre high school record. She went to class three days a week, came home around two to clean and wash and cook for her husband, then gave him her cunt every night. On her free days, she did her assignments for class, sewing up a storm.
One day she may become a professional seamstress. Or a fashion designer. Hell, she may even be a fuckin couturier. You can't blame a girl for dreaming! But two things are certain: Despite the unnecessary accessory between her legs, she is all female! And notwithstanding her obstinacy those three years prior to BCS, the hole between her nalgas belongs to one man, her brother, her lover, her mate, the studly Raul.
.oOo.
As an author, I welcome feedback from readers. Please send any comments about this story, positive or negative, to Herb_Cat@mailcity.com. Thank you.
After three years of resistance, Juanita finally discovered at BCS that she missed her brother's nightly fucks, wanted them, craved them, hungered for them, needed them. She found out that for her cunt there was no other rightful occupant than his cock. Having her hermano inside her made her complete. That month without him there left her empty, void, deserted. She vowed her boi cunt would never again spend even one day without feeling those thrusts, drinking that cum, hearing that laugh.
Their first three days back home were a whirlwind of orgiastic sex. When Raul took his morning shower or his afternoon siesta or his evening stroll to the bodega, she was always waiting to coax him back into bed.
On the fourth day, Raul told his little puta he had to go back to work. He couldn't risk losing his job. Juanita couldn't stand the long lonely hours. She did everything she could to take her mind off his beautiful cock. She cleaned their flat spotless, she froze a week's worth of meals, she laundered every item in the hamper. And then it was only noon.
She got dressed, grabbed her purse, and took a walk. Past her high school closed for the summer. The student Pablo was a stranger to her. Past the store where Pablo used to get his smokes. Juanita wouldn't smoke. Past the church where their sainted mother went to morning mass and lit candles for her children's safety in this rough neighborhood with all its senseless violence. But then it was the parents who ended up getting killed.
Juanita found herself in front of the Caridades Católicas thrift shop. There in the window she saw something she wanted. A Singer sewing machine exactly like the one Mizz Harriet had. "¿Qué hace la máquina de coser costo?" she asked the volunteer inside. They haggled a little over the price and Juanita left the store with her treasure. "Gracias, Señor Valdes," she called out as the confused volunteer tried to figure out where he had seen that face and heard that voice.
Juanita got the machine home and started hemming, mending, adapting. She found her mother's old box of notions and began adding rickrack and appliqués. She was so intent on her work, she didn't hear Raul until he opened the door. Quickly he quit mid-seam and ran into her hermano's arms. She took off his work clothes and threw them in the hamper. As he showered the day's dirt off, she heated one of the meals. They sat in their underwear and ate.
Juanita couldn't take her eyes off the dreamboat seated across from her. His wavy black hair. His riveting eyes. His latin stache. His bronze skin. His massive biceps. His perfect pecs. His protruding nipples, as erotic as they were useless, nearly as long excited as her soft clit, equally useless. His armadillo abs.
Raul took a few minutes to digest his meal while Juanita did the dishes. Then it was time to get down to the all-important business of the evening. She fluttered her eyes and took his hand. He cupped her nalgas and followed her to their bed. She turned off the light. He opened the blind. The hot burning stars in the sky had nothing on these two lovers. They knelt on the bed enveloped in each other's arms. They kissed lasciviously and ran their hands salaciously over each other's sweaty body. He removed her bra and they both silently longed for the day when the pills she took would make the falsies redundant. She pushed him down on the bed and pulled off his boxers. She knelt over him and hoovered his mantool. Already erect, it now pulsed with throbbing energy. He pulled off her panties. They both chose to ignore her oversized clitoris. It served no purpose now so it wasn't even there. She momentarily let go of his cock to take his finger in her mouth. When it was wet with her saliva, he inserted it in her boi cunt. She writhed in ecstasy and sucked him with new energy, anxious to prepare his tool for its mission. Finally, she got up over him and lowered her hungry hole on to his oozing cock. He pulled on her hips. She grunted softly and he was inside, starting his electrifying journey up her túnel del amor. When she felt his scrotum pressed against her ass, she started bouncing. Riding his joystick until finally he shot his load into her. How could she have ever been so estúpida to think this wasn't heaven? He pulled out and laughed that marvelous laugh.
For Juanita, sewing became the way to control her pent up sexual energy until her brother got home each day. She went back to the thrift shop and selected clothes that could be made more her size, more flattering, more provocative. She found they had quality yard goods at cheap prices. Señor Valdes even began saving items that came in to give her first pick.
Raul too had his work cut out for him. His loving hermana was horny as hell and if he expected her to remain faithful to him alone, he knew he had to deliver the goods every night. He couldn't even consider fucking another bitch, for he always had to be at his peak for Juanita. So the two were monogamous.
She returned to high school in September, but dropped out after a month. The classes were tedious now that she had found herself. Instead, she stayed home and studied for her GED, which she earned in January. Meanwhile she kept on sewing. She altered clothes for other women. She mended clothes for the neighborhood kids. She rarely charged her neighbors, but did accept the occasional pie or paella. As she worked, she hummed to herself,
"Soy una chica y tengo un clítoris.
Soy una chica y yo tenemos una vagina.
Soy una chica y tengo senos.
Soy una chica y mi nombre es Juanita."
In February, she enrolled in the fashion institute. When she showed the admittance officer the clothes she'd made, he overlooked her mediocre high school record. She went to class three days a week, came home around two to clean and wash and cook for her husband, then gave him her cunt every night. On her free days, she did her assignments for class, sewing up a storm.
One day she may become a professional seamstress. Or a fashion designer. Hell, she may even be a fuckin couturier. You can't blame a girl for dreaming! But two things are certain: Despite the unnecessary accessory between her legs, she is all female! And notwithstanding her obstinacy those three years prior to BCS, the hole between her nalgas belongs to one man, her brother, her lover, her mate, the studly Raul.
.oOo.
As an author, I welcome feedback from readers. Please send any comments about this story, positive or negative, to Herb_Cat@mailcity.com. Thank you.