The Sleepover
The miniature palace of a home was bursting at the seams with the laughter and musings of the Highland Hills’ cheerleading squad. Tonight’s sleepover was being hosted by the co-captain - Alia Sampson. An only c***d, Alia’s father owned a successful general contracting business and her mother taught third and fourth grade science. She’d convinced her parents to let her invite the eleven girls and one boy on the team to their home for a night filled with the latest goss, cheezy flicks, makeovers, and copious amounts of sugar.
Needless to say, Hal and Vanessa Sampson were begrudging at best.
That notwithstanding, Mrs. Sampson was a hell of a hostess. She called out to her husband of fifteen years, “Hal! Can you take Paxton home now?”
“Uhhhh,” he mumbled as he paused his game of Madden NFL 23. “Yeah! Gimme a minute!”
“Okay,” the tawny-skinned, fit woman turned towards the k**s. “It’s time for everyone to say goodnight to Paxton.”
A chorus of protests and groaning rang out.
Paxton stood and tossed his imaginary long tresses. “Don’t worry, dolls! I’ll be back for brunch,” he sassed and snapped his fingers.
“Yas, queen,” rang out from several of the girls.
Just then, Alia’s block of a father, who had a medium brown complexion atop a warm, yellow undertone, appeared. “You ready, Pax,” he checked.
“Sadly, I am, sir,” he lamented. Then he sashayed away with his duffle bag over his shoulder.
“I might stop by The Taproom before I come back,” Hal intimated as the melodramatic exit was happening.
“I understand,” mouthed his wife with an empathetic smirk.
Hal turned and marched towards the stairs. Young Paxton was waiting at the bottom. He descended and briefly touched the soon-to-be-castoff boy’s shoulder. “Let me get my keys. I’ll be right back.”
Hal returned saying, “We’re going in the two eighty.”
They hopped in the metallic light brown 1981 Nissan coupe.
As Hal backed out of the driveway, Paxton purred, “Got me in the sports car, daddy!”
The thirty-nine year old laughed nervously and shifted into first. “Where do you live again, Pax?”
“Oh…you know…By Barksdale and Fairmont.”
“Got it!”
Hal sped off.
“Sooooo, Mister Sampson, why couldn’t I spend the night,” inquired the sole male cheerleader.
“Uh…Come on, Paxton. You know we ALL agreed that we didn’t want to have a co-ed sleepover.”
“By we, you mean all the adults,” he scoffed. “I’m not like other boys.”
“Well yeah,” started Hal. “I know Alia says you don’t like girls, but still we weren’t comfortable with that just yet. Give us time.”
“It’s not just that. I’m a femboy.”
“So…you wanna be a girl?”
“No, sir! I’m a highly femme gay boy.”
“What’s the difference,” checked Hal.
“I can’t get pregnant.”
“Well, not every woman can get pregnant.”
“True, but femboys are more willing and fun in bed!”
“Uhhhh,” stammered the married father.
“You heard me, Mister Sampson! But just so you know, I don’t like boys.”
“Huh?”
“I like grown men,” announced the precocious seventh grader, placing his hand on Hal’s firm inner thigh.
“Wh-Whoa,” Hal’s eyes bugged as he swerved a bit. “S-Slow down there, buddy,” he ordered, removing Paxton’s hand almost immediately.
“I do,” the youngster reiterated.
Hal pulled over at the first service station he could find. He gathered himself for a moment then said, “I’ma order you a ride now. I’ll follow y’all to make sure you get home okay.”
“Please don’t, Mister Sampson,” whined Paxton.
“Why not, you’re telling me you like grown men and you’re only twelve.”
“Yes, sir. I said that!”
“You don’t need to be involving yourself with that kind of grown-up stuff. Be a k**.”
“You’re right,” the milk chocolate boy whispered in his melodic voice.
Hal nodded.
“I probably also shouldn’t involve myself in grown-up things like you fucking my mom,” Paxton added matter-of-factly.
“Huh?”
“Hmmmm! You don’t remember. It was about three weeks…”
“Alright,” Hal wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans. “Look, Pax! What do you want from me?”
“I just want to spend some time with the princess’ daddy.”
“Wh-What kinda time?”
“Quality time.”
“But I gotta get back home,” Hal protested.
“I heard you tell Mizz Sampson you were going to The Taproom after.”
Hal sat there silent.
“I’ve seen you and some of the other dads checking out my booty after practice when I’m wearing those tight little shorts,” Paxton explained. “Y’all probably imagine what it would be like to split my cheeks on my eighteenth birthday.”
Hal sweated profusely.
Pax continued, “I’m literally sitting inches from you in full-glam makeup. You know you want this!” He placed a hand on Hal’s groin. “See…You’re getting hard.”
“Damn,” bemoaned the man. “I can’t do that! I’d go to jail.”
“Prison,” clarified the totally forward effete bottom in a sultry tone. “But…I’m not gonna tell if you don’t.”
“Why not?”
“They’d take me away from my mom and probably put me in foster care. That would suck for real because my mom is great and I don’t wanna end up poor and traumatized because of that.”
“Oh,” Hal considered.
“See...We can have ongoing fun and no one gets hurt. It’s like that thing during the Cold War.”
“Mutually assured destruction.”
“Yeah! That! We just studied it last week.”
“You not gon’ tell,” the older one quizzed.
“Never!”
Hal shifted into first gear. His mind raced as he drove them to their destination. All the while, Pax was stroking his engorged manhood. “Ooh, baby,” he moaned. “You gotta tell Alia your new pronouns so I don’t slip up when she mentions you.”
“My pronouns are faggot, femboy, hoe, and bitch,” giggled the sissy.
“Hell yeah,'' roared Hal.
Once inside the small shotgun house, Hal pulled Paxton close and massaged his derriere.
“You like that l’il faggot ass, daddy?”
“Oh yeah, pussyboy!”
“Want an edible while I get ready?”
“Why not,” Hal shrugged.
The middle schooler switched extra hard going to his flimsy nightstand and producing the container with cannabis gummies. “Have one,” he offered.
Paxton went off to the bathroom to get ready.
He returned a few moments later just as the high was hitting his guest.
Hal’s eyes bugged. He moved towards Paxton in a trance. His hands caressed the silken skin. “Love these white thigh highs, boi,” he announced, smacking the tender and pliable buttocks. “Suck daddy’s dick, faggit!”
Paxton assumed the position and unzipped Hal’s jeans. He pulled them down along with the plaid boxers. He took the thick tool in his hands and gawked at it. “It’s so fat, daddy! You’re gonna split me in two.”
“Yeah,” chuckled the horny man.
Paxton kissed the angular head and struggled getting his mouth around the jumbo dick.
Hal placed his massive hand on the back of Paxton’s head. “Open wide, l’il boi!”
“Mmmmm,” moaned Paxton.
The youngster gagged and slobbed all the way down the seven-and-a-half-inch shaft.
“Oh yeah, faggit! Suck that dick,” commanded Hal.
“Mmhmm!”
“Fuck! You suck it better than my wife!”
“Mmm!”
“I need to get in that faggit ass!”
“Yes, sir,” cooed Paxton, standing. “How do you want it?”
“Ass up, boi!”
“Yes, daddy!”
Paxton jumped on the bed and wiggled his hiney.
Hal salivated. “You got the perfect bubble butt,” he opined, smacking the alluring rear end. He pulled the white g-string to the side and spat on the clenched pink hole. “I’m about to open this shit up, li’l boi!”
“Ooh wee,” Paxton twerked.
Hal licked the ass crack for good measure then stood and angled his dick towards the entrance.
“Ahhhhhhhh,” shrieked Paxton, reaching for his bottle of poppers. He inhaled and his anus relaxed.
“That’s it,” barked Hal. “Take this dick, punk!”
“Yes, daddy!”
“Damn! It’s so tight! You finna make me bust.”
“Not yet, daddy,” Paxton lunged forward, coming off the fat love spear.
The k**do turned on his back and raised his legs in the air. Stuffed a****ls surrounded his head on both sides.
Hal pushed himself back into Paxton’s inner being.
“Ahhhhhhh,” winced the submissive tart, “Fuck this twelve year-old ass, daddy!”
“Yeah, faggit! Take this grown man dick!”
Eight thrusts later and Hal exploded.
As he got dressed, he kissed Paxton on the forehead and said, “It’ll be longer tomorrow when I bring you back home after brunch.”
Needless to say, Hal and Vanessa Sampson were begrudging at best.
That notwithstanding, Mrs. Sampson was a hell of a hostess. She called out to her husband of fifteen years, “Hal! Can you take Paxton home now?”
“Uhhhh,” he mumbled as he paused his game of Madden NFL 23. “Yeah! Gimme a minute!”
“Okay,” the tawny-skinned, fit woman turned towards the k**s. “It’s time for everyone to say goodnight to Paxton.”
A chorus of protests and groaning rang out.
Paxton stood and tossed his imaginary long tresses. “Don’t worry, dolls! I’ll be back for brunch,” he sassed and snapped his fingers.
“Yas, queen,” rang out from several of the girls.
Just then, Alia’s block of a father, who had a medium brown complexion atop a warm, yellow undertone, appeared. “You ready, Pax,” he checked.
“Sadly, I am, sir,” he lamented. Then he sashayed away with his duffle bag over his shoulder.
“I might stop by The Taproom before I come back,” Hal intimated as the melodramatic exit was happening.
“I understand,” mouthed his wife with an empathetic smirk.
Hal turned and marched towards the stairs. Young Paxton was waiting at the bottom. He descended and briefly touched the soon-to-be-castoff boy’s shoulder. “Let me get my keys. I’ll be right back.”
Hal returned saying, “We’re going in the two eighty.”
They hopped in the metallic light brown 1981 Nissan coupe.
As Hal backed out of the driveway, Paxton purred, “Got me in the sports car, daddy!”
The thirty-nine year old laughed nervously and shifted into first. “Where do you live again, Pax?”
“Oh…you know…By Barksdale and Fairmont.”
“Got it!”
Hal sped off.
“Sooooo, Mister Sampson, why couldn’t I spend the night,” inquired the sole male cheerleader.
“Uh…Come on, Paxton. You know we ALL agreed that we didn’t want to have a co-ed sleepover.”
“By we, you mean all the adults,” he scoffed. “I’m not like other boys.”
“Well yeah,” started Hal. “I know Alia says you don’t like girls, but still we weren’t comfortable with that just yet. Give us time.”
“It’s not just that. I’m a femboy.”
“So…you wanna be a girl?”
“No, sir! I’m a highly femme gay boy.”
“What’s the difference,” checked Hal.
“I can’t get pregnant.”
“Well, not every woman can get pregnant.”
“True, but femboys are more willing and fun in bed!”
“Uhhhh,” stammered the married father.
“You heard me, Mister Sampson! But just so you know, I don’t like boys.”
“Huh?”
“I like grown men,” announced the precocious seventh grader, placing his hand on Hal’s firm inner thigh.
“Wh-Whoa,” Hal’s eyes bugged as he swerved a bit. “S-Slow down there, buddy,” he ordered, removing Paxton’s hand almost immediately.
“I do,” the youngster reiterated.
Hal pulled over at the first service station he could find. He gathered himself for a moment then said, “I’ma order you a ride now. I’ll follow y’all to make sure you get home okay.”
“Please don’t, Mister Sampson,” whined Paxton.
“Why not, you’re telling me you like grown men and you’re only twelve.”
“Yes, sir. I said that!”
“You don’t need to be involving yourself with that kind of grown-up stuff. Be a k**.”
“You’re right,” the milk chocolate boy whispered in his melodic voice.
Hal nodded.
“I probably also shouldn’t involve myself in grown-up things like you fucking my mom,” Paxton added matter-of-factly.
“Huh?”
“Hmmmm! You don’t remember. It was about three weeks…”
“Alright,” Hal wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans. “Look, Pax! What do you want from me?”
“I just want to spend some time with the princess’ daddy.”
“Wh-What kinda time?”
“Quality time.”
“But I gotta get back home,” Hal protested.
“I heard you tell Mizz Sampson you were going to The Taproom after.”
Hal sat there silent.
“I’ve seen you and some of the other dads checking out my booty after practice when I’m wearing those tight little shorts,” Paxton explained. “Y’all probably imagine what it would be like to split my cheeks on my eighteenth birthday.”
Hal sweated profusely.
Pax continued, “I’m literally sitting inches from you in full-glam makeup. You know you want this!” He placed a hand on Hal’s groin. “See…You’re getting hard.”
“Damn,” bemoaned the man. “I can’t do that! I’d go to jail.”
“Prison,” clarified the totally forward effete bottom in a sultry tone. “But…I’m not gonna tell if you don’t.”
“Why not?”
“They’d take me away from my mom and probably put me in foster care. That would suck for real because my mom is great and I don’t wanna end up poor and traumatized because of that.”
“Oh,” Hal considered.
“See...We can have ongoing fun and no one gets hurt. It’s like that thing during the Cold War.”
“Mutually assured destruction.”
“Yeah! That! We just studied it last week.”
“You not gon’ tell,” the older one quizzed.
“Never!”
Hal shifted into first gear. His mind raced as he drove them to their destination. All the while, Pax was stroking his engorged manhood. “Ooh, baby,” he moaned. “You gotta tell Alia your new pronouns so I don’t slip up when she mentions you.”
“My pronouns are faggot, femboy, hoe, and bitch,” giggled the sissy.
“Hell yeah,'' roared Hal.
Once inside the small shotgun house, Hal pulled Paxton close and massaged his derriere.
“You like that l’il faggot ass, daddy?”
“Oh yeah, pussyboy!”
“Want an edible while I get ready?”
“Why not,” Hal shrugged.
The middle schooler switched extra hard going to his flimsy nightstand and producing the container with cannabis gummies. “Have one,” he offered.
Paxton went off to the bathroom to get ready.
He returned a few moments later just as the high was hitting his guest.
Hal’s eyes bugged. He moved towards Paxton in a trance. His hands caressed the silken skin. “Love these white thigh highs, boi,” he announced, smacking the tender and pliable buttocks. “Suck daddy’s dick, faggit!”
Paxton assumed the position and unzipped Hal’s jeans. He pulled them down along with the plaid boxers. He took the thick tool in his hands and gawked at it. “It’s so fat, daddy! You’re gonna split me in two.”
“Yeah,” chuckled the horny man.
Paxton kissed the angular head and struggled getting his mouth around the jumbo dick.
Hal placed his massive hand on the back of Paxton’s head. “Open wide, l’il boi!”
“Mmmmm,” moaned Paxton.
The youngster gagged and slobbed all the way down the seven-and-a-half-inch shaft.
“Oh yeah, faggit! Suck that dick,” commanded Hal.
“Mmhmm!”
“Fuck! You suck it better than my wife!”
“Mmm!”
“I need to get in that faggit ass!”
“Yes, sir,” cooed Paxton, standing. “How do you want it?”
“Ass up, boi!”
“Yes, daddy!”
Paxton jumped on the bed and wiggled his hiney.
Hal salivated. “You got the perfect bubble butt,” he opined, smacking the alluring rear end. He pulled the white g-string to the side and spat on the clenched pink hole. “I’m about to open this shit up, li’l boi!”
“Ooh wee,” Paxton twerked.
Hal licked the ass crack for good measure then stood and angled his dick towards the entrance.
“Ahhhhhhhh,” shrieked Paxton, reaching for his bottle of poppers. He inhaled and his anus relaxed.
“That’s it,” barked Hal. “Take this dick, punk!”
“Yes, daddy!”
“Damn! It’s so tight! You finna make me bust.”
“Not yet, daddy,” Paxton lunged forward, coming off the fat love spear.
The k**do turned on his back and raised his legs in the air. Stuffed a****ls surrounded his head on both sides.
Hal pushed himself back into Paxton’s inner being.
“Ahhhhhhh,” winced the submissive tart, “Fuck this twelve year-old ass, daddy!”
“Yeah, faggit! Take this grown man dick!”
Eight thrusts later and Hal exploded.
As he got dressed, he kissed Paxton on the forehead and said, “It’ll be longer tomorrow when I bring you back home after brunch.”
2 years ago
