Pussy Boy! By Throne (19 Pages) (Patreon)

Pussy Boy!

By Throne

© 2019-2020 QoS Comix All Rights Reserved

No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, email to ​[email protected] 

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

PUSSY BOY

by Throne

"But it's not fair," I said to my wife Rhoda.  "I mean, as your husband I should have certain rights and..."

She cut me off by holding up her hand, palm out.  "We've been over this before, Pauley.  Remember what happened on our wedding night?"

I stood there looking at her.  She is so sexy.  Wearing just a very short, belted robe.  Slender but with a stupendous bust.  Long blond hair.  An attractive face.  Even her sometimes aloof, often bitchy attitude didn't detract from her appeal.  I'm short and soft, the latter liability shown off by the fact that I was wearing only a pair of jockey shorts. 

With a nod I admitted, "Of course I remember."  But Rhoda likes to remind me of it... in detail.

"We were saving ourselves until we were married," she began.  That had been her idea.  "And there in the honeymoon suite I got my first look at your manhood, if it can even be called that.  It was so disappointing, so tiny, that I called my bridesmaids and they had to come console me.  And then what happened?"

"They had room service send up a case of champagne, you all got tipsy, and then you were... mean to me."

"No, we were just having some fun.  After all, I needed something to cheer me up after that huge letdown."

Whenever I tried to defend myself, she had a way of twisting things around so it seemed like she was right and I was wrong.  I should have known better than to even try.

"All right," I conceded.

"So when we dressed you up in nothing but stockings and panties, and made you go down the hall to get us some ice, that was just part of entertaining ourselves.  I really needed a good laugh."

"But your girlfriends all made fun of me.  Of my... boy parts.  Saying you got shortchanged.  And asking where was the rest of it.  Then other people saw me out in the corridor.  And when I got back you locked me out for I don't know how long."

She shrugged.  "A few minutes."

"And when you let me in..."  I tried not to get all teary-eyed.  "... you did that other thing."

"That was the best part."  She started to chuckle.  "When you had to pull down the panties...  and sit on that bucket that was overflowing with ice... with your 'boy parts' in it..."  She started laughing out loud.  "And then show everyone how your junk shrank down even more."  My wife was convulsed with laughter.  "Plus we kept you doing that for a long time, so your poor little bits stayed extra tiny."  She was close to weeping from laughter and I was near to doing the same from those humiliating memories.

"Ever since then..."  I had to stop to get the words straight.  "... you haven't let me..."  I couldn't say it.

"Have sex?  Of course not.  With that little pee pee of yours, what would be the point?  Besides, the longer you go without emptying your miniature balls, the better you are at eating my pussy.  Which is one more reason why now you are Pussy Boy." 

My lips began to quiver.  I was completely losing control of my emotions.  "It's just not right."

"Is it right that I'm stuck with a no-dick loser?" she wanted to know.  "Or that I have to get all my jollies from you using your mouth?  I mean, I had a lot of big cocks when I was single and now I miss that."

"That's right."  I thought I had found an opening.  "You had a lot of them.  But you made me wait for sex until we got married."

"Naturally.  I was trying to start over.  Doing it for you.  Before I knew all you have between your legs is something like a Fun Size candy bar.  Besides, going without sex is a lot easier for you than for me.  I mean, you WERE a virgin before we got hitched.  And now you can just STAY a virgin, because you're never going to put that silly thing inside me.  Only your tongue is going to get to go to my sweet spot."

That started the tears really flowing.  I just couldn't make her understand, or get any sympathy, or break through her topsy turvy way of seeing things.  I stood there feeling defenseless and defeated -- again.

"Now that we've settle that one more time, let's get to the bedroom so I can relieve all the stress you just gave me.  It's probably going to require two or three orgasms."

"Yeah, but...   You can't make me...  It's wrong to..."  I started blubbering, broken words flowing out of me. 

Rhoda made a show of being exasperated, as if I was behaving unreasonably.  She put her hands on her shapely hips and took a deep breath, making her large chest rise and fall under the robe.  I was so mesmerized by the sight of her that I began to regain control.  The hope of salvaging something out of this couldn't be extinguished inside me. 

I asked hesitantly, "Couldn't we do something about... you know... my needs?"

She softened visibly.  "Well, how would you feel about a nice hand job?"

Even though it would be demeaning to have her do that for me, I was desperate.  So I told her, "Okay.  Thank you.  I think that's a good start."

"Fine.  Get your dick out and let me see your technique."

"What?  Wait.  I thought you meant you would do it for me."

"UGH.  No.  Why would I want to touch that useless piece of skin you have instead of a full size cock?"

"I can't touch myself in front of you."

"Why not?  You've been doing it behind my back since we've been together.  Isn't that right?"

"Well yes but..."  I heard what I was saying.  Oh no.  I had just admitted to my dirty little habit.  "I'm sorry."

"You should be.  Married to a desirable woman like me.  And then being greedy and expecting me to be satisfied with your measly little no-dick.  When you can't have your selfish way, what do you do?  Jerk off in secret.  You know how I detest any form of dishonesty.  And yet you become a secret taffy puller.  With a bitesize taffy." 

"But you don't..."

"Enough of that.  You've left me no choice but to keep making you my Pussy Boy.  It's better than me tossing you out on your skinny ass.  Now let's get to the bedroom before you think of some more stupid things to say."

"I... I... I..."

Suddenly she was scowling at me, her hands fisted in front of her, body language suggesting she was about to hit me.  "That's the end.  I didn't want to do this, but you've pushed me to it.  Just remember that.  What's going to happen now is all your fault."  She took her phone from the robe's pocket and opened it, then hit a preset number.  "Hello, Reggie.  Remember what we talked about?  When you kept trying to hook up with me, and I had to remind you that I'm a married woman.  But I said that if my idiot husband ever became too unreasonable, you and I could get together?  Well, that time has come.  Do you want to drive over here and get paid back for being such a good friend and being so understanding?"  She listened for a moment, said she would expect him soon, and snapped the phone shut.  "You've made your bed, Pauley Boy, and now you'll have to sleep in it.  Because you won't be sleeping next to me anymore.  You've cost yourself even that right."

I opened my mouth but was too stunned to speak.  What had just happened?  Who was Reggie?  And was she saying that he could have some sort of physical relationship with her?  She put me to work cleaning up the bathroom because, she pointed out, making it sound perfectly reasonable, 'company is coming'.  I wanted to put on something to cover me up, but was too afraid of upsetting her at that point.  I had crossed some invisible line and was now going to face the consequences.  My head was spinning as I swabbed out the toilet and did a quick clean-up of the floor around it.  Before I could accomplish more I heard a loud knock on our front door.  When I came to the end of the hall and peeked out into our living room, I got my first look at Reggie. 

He was tall and powerfully built, with assured body language, wearing a black sleeveless undershirt, tight jeans that showed off a considerable bulge at his crotch, and flashy running shoes.  Also, he was Black.  Rhonda must have seen me from the corner of her eye, because she barked at me to get out there.  Ashamed that all I had on was those snug shorts, I joined them hesitantly.  Reggie looked at me and sneered.

"What you got there, Mama?  A damned house pet?"  He bared his teeth and ordered, "Get me a drink, boy."  To my wife he said, "I'll have the usual."

She looked my way and instructed, "My friend wants a rum and cola.  That's not too complicated for you, is it Pauley Boy?"

"N... no, Ma'am."

Reggie snapped at me, "Then get busy, creampuff."

In a daze I went to the kitchen.  With numb fingers I took a glass and got the two ingredients, then made the very basic drink.  As I returned with it, I found them sitting side by side on the couch. 

The Black man told me, "Yo, dopey.  Your wife's telling me how you got on her last nerve.  Don't you think she needs a drink, too?  Get her favorite."  When I didn't react he clarified, "A screwdriver, birdbrain."

Again I went to the kitchen, my head spinning.  This was terrible.  It was like our home had been invaded.  And my wife welcomed it.  But then, he was being sympathetic toward her.  It was only me who felt threatened.  I took her the drink and saw that Reggie had his hand on her shoulder in a comforting way.  The front of her robe had somehow gotten parted and she was showing plenty of dramatic cleavage.  As I handed her the glass I couldn't help gawking at her exposed charms. 

"Hey, pervert," she sneered at me.  "My eyes are up here.  It's not enough that you acted like a total jerk toward me.  Now you're staring at my boobs?  And in front of Reggie?"

"For sure, snowflake," Reggie said angrily to me.  "You just don't know how to treat this fine woman.  And from everything I've heard, you're no great kicks in bed.  I think the word she used was hopeless.  Plus I can see you got nothing but a bitty bump where you should have a cock.  Yet she stayed with you.  Tried to find a way to make it work.  Gave you another way to keep her happy between the sheets.  And now she's saying how you turned into a lying jerk-off sicko.  That is NOT cool, boy."

I was so intimidated that I couldn't even respond.  He moved his hand down to her thigh and left it there, at the same time staring at me challengingly.  In just my tight white shorts, with my inferior physique so visible, I felt too vulnerable.  Reggie turned to Rhoda, reached across with his unoccupied hand, and cupped her chin. 

He told her, "Don't worry, my little white flower.  I'm here now to make everything right.  First I'm going to deal with this sad sack.  Then we'll see what we can do about how you've been getting left unsatisfied in the love department."  He returned his attention to me.  "All right, sugar bowl.  Drop them shorts so I can see what's the real deal down there."

"But I can't..."  When I looked to my bride for help she just gave me a curled lip. 

Reggie sprang to his feet.  He slapped me hard on one side of my face and backhanded the other.  Then he grabbed me by the ear, twisted, and walked me across the room so fast that I stumbled and almost fell.  He reached a wooden chair, sat on it and pulled me across his lap.  I could feel his muscular thighs under me.  Then he shocked me by yanking my shorts down to mid-thigh.  I reached back to try to cover my bottom but he snatched my hand and bent back two of my fingers, making me yowl.  Then he released it.

"You ever try to fight back again, boy," he hollered, "I'm going to mess you up like you ain't never been messed.  Understand?"

"Y... yes, Sir."

"Good.  Now try not to wriggle around too much while you take your spanking."

"Spanking?  But I'm an adult and..."

His broad hand came down fast and hard.  There was a loud smack, a blaze of pain, and then my high-pitched cry.  Before I could do more he followed up with a flurry of swats, making me kick my feet and wail nonstop.  My nose started to run.  I began to cry freely.  I don't know how many total blows he landed but by the end I was a bawling mess.  Reggie stood up unexpectedly and dumped me onto the carpet.  I lay there weeping, feeling like a boy who had been defeated by a man.  He planted his foot on the side of my neck and rested his weight on it, pinning me there and symbolizing that he was the victor.  My wife grinned at him and clapped. 

She got up and went to the Black intruder in my life.  Then she put her arms around his neck and pressed her substantial bust against his body.  Next she closed her eyes and parted her lips, tilting back her head and sending an unmistakable signal.  From my worm's-eye view I saw him kiss her, at first softly and then with mounting passion.  She didn't shy away.  It was the opposite.  She kissed him back and her hands stroked his back.  At last they broke apart and stood there gazing into each other's eyes. 

"I'm so glad you came right away, Reggie," she said.  "I was beginning to worry that Pauley was going to get violent."

That didn't make any sense.  But he must have believed her because he moved his foot to the side of my face and pressed down firmly.  Then he forced my head to turn so I was looking upward. 

He advised my wife, "This punk has to learn some manners.  Put your pretty foot on his mouth.  Go ahead, honey.  You're safe with me here."

She did it and Reggie told me to kiss the bottom of her foot.  I didn't want to but he kicked me in the side of my neck, hard enough to send a warning.  I pressed my lips to her sole and made wet kissing sounds.  Then he had me lick her heel.  Finally I had to suck her toes, which must have tickled, or else just amused her, because she giggled down at me. 

Rhoda told him, "Thank you, darling.  I owe you a lot.  I hope you won't think it's crass if I offer you myself as thanks. After all, you have told me that you'd like that."

She shifted her foot so that her toes stayed between my lips but her sole and heels were on my upper face.  When she put more weight on that leg I groaned.  Reggie put one hand on her breast and felt it through the robe.  She got her fingers on his crotch and massaged that generous bulge.  I sucked harder on her toes and felt an unwanted stirring in my groin.  Why was this bizarre scene arousing me?  I didn't have time to think about that because he decided to let me up.  He barked at me to get my last piece of clothing off.  The two of them were eager to get to the bedroom so Reggie could collect his reward.  Rhoda let her robe slide down her arms and fall to the floor.  Reggie peeled off his shirt, got out of his shoes, and removed his pants.  He had on only long boxer shorts as he embraced my wife and they shared another heated kiss.  Then she got down on her knees to slowly lower his last piece of clothing.  His cock was revealed and it was a monster.  Still flaccid but already 10 thick inches.  She fondled it lovingly and soon it was up to 12.

"Mmmm," she enthused.  "It's like what I used to get all the time when I was single.  And now I'm going to have it again."

"As often as you want, girl."

She rubbed the side of her face against it and gave the head a friendly squeeze before letting him help her back to her feet.  Both of them naked, they shared one more hug before heading the rest of the way to the bedroom.  OUR bedroom, where I was used to lying alongside my gorgeous wife, and where she had said I would no longer be permitted to sleep.  They got on the bed and commenced some lively foreplay.  He sucked her nipples and she rubbed her tits all over his big Black cock.  Reggie bit the side of her neck, hard enough to leave marks.  It was as if that was part of him claiming her for his own.  Then she got up on her knees and wagged her ass at him invitingly.  He positioned himself behind her and lined up his enviable tool with her welcoming slit that was wet and ready for him.  He fed his long shaft into her all the way up to his heavy balls.

Rhoda purred and told him, "Make me sweat, Reggie.  Do that thing where you use really long strokes but space them apart.  That drives me crazy." 

Wait.  If this was their first time, how did she know about him using that method?  And how could she know it would make her wild?  I didn't have time to dwell on that because all at once they were in the midst of runaway screwing.  At some point he did use that trick and it did start her begging for more.  He also demonstrated several other variations of speed and position that had my eyes bugging out.  She loved every second of it and responded as if her inhibitions had been erased.  Squirming and squealing, she was driven to an animated climax.  As she was at her peak he grunted loudly and I knew he had let himself finish inside her.  They both enjoyed their sexual ecstasy until they slowly descended from the heights. 

As they lay there side by side, Reggie said to me, "Hey, dick-less, go get our drinks and freshen them up.  That was thirsty work." 

I got up shakily and did as I was told.  When I came back they were whispering to each other and laughing softly.  I have them their glasses and they each took a long sip, savoring the taste. 

Reggie wanted to know, "So what was this deal that made you act like a fool, Pauley, and made you get Rhoda so upset?"

"It was just that she's being unfair, not even listening when I try to explain myself, and refusing to let me do anything with her in bed except... well... perform cunnilingus."

"And why she do that?"

"Well..."  I understood that I'd said more than I should have.  "It's not really important."

"No, it is.  I want to know.  So why did she cut you off from dick sex?"

"She... kind of thinks... that maybe I'm too small down there."  I made a throat clearing sound.  "And finish too soon."

"Ah," he said as if this was a surprise to him.  "Now I get it.  So you come over here right now."  Once I was at the foot of the bed he told me, "Check what I've got that swings in the breeze.  See it?  And then take a look at what you got peeking out down there.  That make it clear what's going on?"

"I... err... guess so."

"Which means that you got to agree with her thinking.  And you should be a..."  He turned to her.   "What you call him?"

"Pussy Boy."

"Right.  So Pauley, I shouldn't call you by your regular name.  Instead it got to be Pussy Boy.  Unless you want to tell me I'm wrong."

"No, Sir," I replied meekly.

"And you understand how being a Pussy Boy works."  The big Black man's eyebrows went up as he waited for my answer.

"I do."

"Then I now pronounce you man and pussy, from this night forth."  He chuckled.  "And I don't want anymore backtalk from you to Rhoda.  She tells me there was one word, and then you'll be dealing with me, which you do not want."

"I understand... Sir."

"Good boy.  But I think we got to do something to seal the deal.  Make it all legal and binding like they say.  You let us rest up and then we'll let we know what has to happen to make it official."  He gave me a broad wink.  "Cause I know you want everything to be clear so you won't forget it never."

I nodded.  "Yes, please.  Thank you."

It was so demeaning to have to act so humble in front of him, especially with my wife right there.  She told me to take the trash out to the curb for collection in the morning.  When I froze up and didn't move she let me know that I wasn't allowed to put anything on.  So I had to empty all the small cans around the house into the big one in the pantry.  Then I pulled out the liner and knotted its ties.  Finally I went to the back door and tried to figure the best way to put it into the large can outside and get that to the curb without being seen.  There wasn't any good way to do it, so I just exited our home, skulked through the shadows to the big can alongside the house, put the new bag in it, on top of what was already there, then waited and listened until I was pretty certain no one was driving on our street.  Of course, as soon as I set it out for pick-up, someone came whizzing around the corner.  I turned and ran, almost falling, and barely got out of sight in time.  But when I tried to go back inside the door was locked. 

There stood the lovers, grinning at my nudity through the window, as I waved at them frantically.  They let my stress level climb for several minutes before opening the door.  As I tried to enter, Rhoda held out a small plastic bag.

"Here," she said.  "You missed this.  Take it out there, untie the bag you just got rid of, and put it inside there."  She tossed me the small bag and said, "Scoot!"

In a panic, I hugged the bag against my bare chest and scampered toward the can.  Another car came from the opposite direction and I had to drop and roll against the hedge between properties.  I got back up and reached the can.  The knot I'd tied defied me to reverse it.  I struggled and twice thought I detected cars approaching.  But at last I got it undone, stuffed the additional bag into it, and retied it.  I was starting to congratulate myself when two cars came at me, one from each end of the block.  I spun around and fell to the ground, where I curled myself into a fetal ball behind the big can.  As soon as they passed I scrambled to my feet and ran for the back door. 

"Can't come in," Reggie decided.  "Too dirty."

"Yeah," Rhoda agreed.  "Go rinse off with the garden hose."

It wasn't cold outside, but it wasn't overly warm either.  I had to drench myself all over with the cold water that had been lying in the hose.  Afterwards, I shook myself like a wet dog.  Finally they allowed me to enter, but I had to go downstairs to the laundry room and dry myself with dirty towels that were waiting to be washed.  Then I trudged back up the basement steps and presented my bedraggled self to them, where they had retaken their seats in the living room, both now in short robes. 

"You look like a drowned rat," Reggie said.

"Or a drowned Pussy Boy," Rhoda offered.

Not sure what to say, and fearful of angering them by remaining silent, I said, "Thank you."

"Now we have to do something special to make your Pussy Boy name go on the record," Reggie declared. 

"And my genius boyfriend figured out what it should be," Rhoda backed him up.

They got the their feet and moved close to the wall, in a spot where no furniture was in the way.  Reggie gestured for me to join them, then ordered me onto my knees behind him, with my back to the wall.  Rhoda knelt in front of him. 

She said, "This is simple, Pussy Boy.  I'm going to suck Reggie's glorious cock.  I'll do it like a career whore who knows her stuff.  Don't want to lose him so I'm going to be all slutty right now.  And while I'm doing that..."  She put a hand over her mouth and dissolved into giggles.

"While she's giving me a knob job," Reggie continued for her, "you'll be back there eating something else.  Namely my ass.  I want your face all up between my butt cheeks, and your lips and tongue getting busy on my tight spot."

Rhoda took his cock in her hand and kissed the head worshipfully.  She cupped his balls and rolled them gently on her palm.  I eased my head forward, close enough to inhale his musky crack.  There was no way for me to avoid what they expected.  Just thinking about it made me sick.  As my bride began to mouth his organ, I forced myself to jam my face between his solid buttocks.  He pushed back slightly to urge me on.  I kissed his pucker, rimmed it, and forced myself to jab at it with the tip of my tongue.  Then I made myself queasy by jamming my tongue inside him.  It was horrible, the rusty flavor and the way his internal muscles gripped me.  But I had to keep going, working in and out while Rhoda fellated him with gusto.  She cooed and made lots of wet slurping sounds so that, even if I couldn't see, I still knew what she was doing and how enthused she was about it.  Worse, she took her time to stretch out my ordeal, even announcing that it was what she was doing.  Reggie rocked his ass and pushed it back to make  my head bang against the wall.  It was disgusting but I had to keep it up until she made him cum.  Then she spat his load and plenty of her saliva onto my chest, where it ran down onto my belly and from there to my crotch.  Reggie kept me at my repulsive job for several additional minutes, in no rush to let me free.  When he stepped away, I nearly fell forward.  Bent over with one hand on the floor, I gagged and tried to keep from having some kind of a breakdown. 

He grinned down at me and said, "Now you're a for real Pussy Boy." 

My wife wondered out loud, "Or should we call him Ass Boy?  Maybe Ass Face Pussy Boy."

As they stood there howling with laughter, I understood how much I had lost.  Reggie and Rhoda owned me, body and soul.  I was their property, to use and abuse as they pleased.  The slightest whim of the Black man or my bride could cost me endless suffering.  And I had no way to do anything about it other than going along with their every command and accepting their every mistreatment.  I was doomed.