Carl had been nervous about moving in with his 60-something neighbour when his parents went to South Africa the whole week. As it turned out, he was right to be nervous.
Doreen had been anticipating his arrival with the sort of sexual frenzy she hadn’t felt for years. She had been watching the video she had taken of Carl masturbating while touching herself almost every hour, had been remembering the touch of him, the feel of his cock as she made him cum, the taste of his sperm.
As she was chatting to his parents as they got ready to set off for a few weeks in South Africa, she felt a little guilty, reassuring them that Carl would be safe in her hands even as she planned a summer of using his body. Even as they were standing in the driveway of her home waving off Carl’s parents, she was sneaking peeks at the shape of his bottom in his grey sweatpants, at the bulge in the front, at his nipples visible through the cotton of his T-shirt, even at the shape of his feet in the white socks he had come out in. Carl had noticed this sneaking of peeks and it only served to make him more nervous. And a little excited, if he was honest with himself. There was something about being looked at…
Once his parents’ car had disappeared around the corner, he turned to Doreen, who said, cheerfully, ‘Right then, let’s get you in and settled’, and tapped him on the bottom. As they went through the front door, Doreen saw his bags at the bottom of the stairs and said, ‘Run those up, dear, then come straight back down.’ Carl did as he was told.
When he came back down, Doreen was in the sitting room in a chair waiting for him. ‘Now, Carl,’ she said, sounding stern, ‘before we start, there are a couple of house rules that I want you to take seriously. As a guest in my home, I’m sure you’ll appreciate that I like things done my way.’
Carl nodded, expecting something about keeping the kitchen tidy or not coming home after a certain time. Maybe something to do with operating the washing machine or not using the shower too much… but no. ‘The first rule of the house,’ started Doreen, ‘is that all your sperm belongs to me.’
Carl couldn’t believe what he had heard. He looked at this plump, elderly woman sitting looking at him, gave a bemused shake of his head and said, ‘Sorry, what was that?’
‘I said that the first rule of this household is that all your sperm belongs to me,’ she repeated as if it were the most natural demand in the world. ‘That means no masturbating unless I am present and I have given you permission. Most of the time, I will be milking you myself but I may sometimes allow you to masturbate for me. But I’ll let you know. Do I make myself clear?’
‘Erm, yes Miss,’ was all Carl could manage trying to get his head around the idea that from now on this frumpy old lady was going to be controlling his entire sexuality: when he touched himself, when he masturbated, everything.
‘And I will be deciding what you’re going to wear at all times,’ she continued, looking him up and down. ‘I have bought things especially, so you probably won’t need any of the clothes you’ve brought from home. Understood?’
‘Yes, Miss,’ said Carl, wondering what sort of clothes she had in mind. He hadn’t had anyone buy him clothes since he was a kid… except for the underwear that his mum was always coming home with.
‘Right, now let me have a look at you,’ said Doreen in an authoritative voice, folding her arms in readiness. ‘Take off your T-shirt.’ Carl felt he had no choice but to obey and pulled the T-shirt from the bottom hem over his head.
‘Beautiful,’ said Doreen, matter-of-factly, as if to herself. ‘You have lovely skin, dear.’
‘Thank you, Miss,’ said Carl, blushing at the bold way she was running her eyes over his torso.
‘Now the socks.’
He bent down and pulled off the white socks, which were grubby on the bottom from having been worn out to the driveway. ‘And lovely feet, Carl,’ she added. He’d never thought of anyone having lovely feet before so that felt strange. ‘Put one up here on the arm of my chair so I can see closer.’
He put his foot up next to her and she examined it, running her hands on it, separating the toes and, finally, leaning forward and kissing it. ‘Beautiful,’ she said. ‘And now the trackpants. But not the underwear,’ at which Carl pulled down his grey sweats, folded them and put them on another of the antique-look armchairs, then stood in front of Doreen in the stretchy colourful underpants his mum bought him, his hands covering his crotch. Doreen looked displeased.
‘Another rule is that you should never stand with your hands covering your crotch, Carl. Is that clear? Your hands should be by your sides at all times when you are in my presence or in the presence of any lady,’ said Doreen. ‘We deserve to see what you have in your trousers or underpants…’
‘Yes, Miss,’ said Carl as he watched her look him up and down, from his feet, up his legs, his torso, his face and then back to his bulge, which had, embarrassingly for him, started to grow with the attention she was giving him.
‘Turn around, dear,’ she said. He complied and sensed her standing up, then felt a hand on his buttocks. ‘Very nice, very nice,’ she said, smoothing her hands over both of them as Carl felt his cock getting properly hard. Then, returning to her chair, ‘now pull the back of the underpants down, Carl.’
He did as he was told and could feel her eyes on the untanned skin of his buttocks. ‘Now bend over and pull your cheeks apart,’ said Doreen. Carl couldn’t believe he was being asked to do this. It was like being at the doctor’s but obviously it wasn’t about his health. But he did as he was told, bent forward and taking a buttock in each hand pulled them apart.
‘Hmmm,’ said Doreen. ‘Yes, I think we’re going to have to do something about that. OK, stand up and turn round.’
Carl stood and turned and was facing Doreen with a hard on so prominent that it risked breaching the waistband of his underwear. He instinctively went to cover it with his hands but remembered the rule and put them down by his sides.
‘Well, that looks very promising,’ said Doreen, more to herself than to him as she looked from the cock straining in his underwear to his face, which was burning with shame. ‘Step forward, dear.’
He took a step towards her so that his bulge was just inches from her face. She studied it, noticed a darker patch where the young man was starting to leak precum, then put out her hand and felt first his balls, then lightly squeezed the base then let her hand run up the entire length of his penis, which was by now so hard it was standing out from his body, opening a gap in the waistband of his underwear. She took the opportunity to dip a finger in and steal a bead of precum. The contact of her finger was electric and made Carl’s cock twitch so he thought he might even cum.
‘Now take them off and hand them to me,’ said Doreen, at which he slid the underwear down and stepped out of it passing it to her. Now he was inches from this elderly neighbour, completely naked, red with embarrassment, his cock hard and just inches from her face while she examined and sniffed his warm underwear.
As she looked at him, Doreen couldn’t believe this boy’s beauty. His skin was perfect, his face so handsome and this body was muscular but not overly muscular. While his penis was large and straight and delicious to look at. She couldn’t believe she was about to have weeks with which to use it, humiliate it, play with it, share it, do whatever she wanted with it.
‘Now I want you to stand exactly where you are while I go and get some things,’ said Doreen, leaving Carl, his hands behind his back, his penis standing up against his belly. She returned within a couple of minutes with a bowl and a little bag with a drawstring, put them on the table by the side of her chair and sat back down.
‘Now, Carl, I want you to lay across my knees, face down,’ she said. This was getting a bit weird, thought Carl, but there was something about this woman’s voice that you just did what she said so he knelt beside her, leaned on her thighs with his belly and manoeuvred himself onto her lap. She had opened her legs a little so his hard cock was now rubbing the inside of her thigh against the nylon tights she was wearing. He prayed not to cum without permission.
With his head hung down beside her, more from shame than from anything else, Carl heard some sploshing coming from the bowl of water, then felt her push his thighs apart on her lap and then an oiled finger going through the hair up inside the crack of his bottom. There was something rather sweet about this late teenage hair, thought Doreen. Something almost sexy about it. But she knew it had to go.
The next thing Carl felt was the fingers of Doreen’s left hand pushing one buttock away then the drip of water on his backside and then the feel of metal as she began to shave his crack. After a few moments, she pulled the other buttock towards her and began shaving the other side.
‘Pull your cheeks apart for me, Carl,’ said Doreen. Carl reached around, trying not to knock Doreen with his elbows, grabbed each of his buttocks and pulled them apart. Then he felt a little scratching and heard the sploshing as Doreen finished the job of shaving his hole.
As for Doreen, with each clump of hair that came away from the crack of his bottom, a little more of that virgin flesh appeared until, with a little dabbing from a flannel, there was a completely hairless little hole, pink and perfect. She got some oil and rubbed it around the hole. She could hear little moans come from Carl and could feel his penis twitching against her leg, no doubt leaving snail trails of precum on her tights.
‘Now, Carl, I want you to sit on that armchair, the one I’ve put a towel on…’ He got up from her knees and walked to the armchair. ‘Now, scoot back and take your knees in your hands…’ Carl did as he was told – he would be doing as he was told for the next few weeks, he realised – and was soon on the edge of the armchair, holding his knees apart so Doreen had a full few of his hole, his underneath, his balls, everything. His penis, still hard, reached up past his belly button leaving streaks of precum almost to his chest.
Doreen picked up the bowl of water with the razor in it and knelt between his legs, her face inches from him. She dripped a couple of drops of an oil from a little bottle, while Carl looked at her, an expression of utter concentration on her wrinkled face, and then smoothed the oil along the area between Carl’s hole and his balls. Then, taking the razor she began to shave, dipping the razor into the water and then, holding the skin taught with one hand, ran the razor along the hardened ridge with the other.
When she was finished, she dabbed the area with the flannel, ran her fingers over it to check that it was smooth and smiled to herself. ‘Now the tricky bit,’ she said, looking up at him for the first time in a few minutes. ‘I’m going to need you to hold very still, Carl, or I might hurt you,’ she said.
She then smoothed some more of the oil over his fuzzy balls and, stretching the skin of his scrotum against one of them, brought the razor towards them and started to shave. The contact of her fingers on his balls was making his cock twitch with excitement but he was conscious of trying to keep as still as possible so she didn’t nick him. And she didn’t. In a few moments, with many dips of the razor in the water and some wipes of the flannel, she sat back on her heels and admired these newly shaved, beautifully pink balls that were hers for the next few weeks.
‘Lovely!’ she said. ‘Now, stand up, Carl.’ He did. His cock, hard and throbbing, was touching her face as she dipped the razor in the water again and, smoothing some of the oil on his belly, started to remove the ‘treasure trail’ that led from his navel to his pubic hair. When that was gone, she dipped again and started in on his pubic hair. Within minutes, he was completely smooth and Doreen was rubbing some lotion onto his belly and all around his cock and under his balls.
‘Now, we’re going to keep you like this the whole time you’re with me,’ she said, as if he didn’t have any say in the matter, which he realised he didn’t. ‘I will inspect you in the shower and we will get rid of any grow-back. And doesn’t it make your penis look bigger!’
Carl looked down. He’d always been more than happy with the size of his penis but he had to admit it did look even bigger. As they both looked at it, Carl from standing and Doreen from her knees in front of him, Carl could feel her breath on him and was desperate for her to take it in her mouth and suck it. There was nothing Doreen would have liked more but she didn’t want to frighten the lad and also she was saving up treats for herself. She was looking forward to having that most beautiful of cocks in her mouth but she was going to wait for it, make herself greedy for it.
‘Now, Carl,’ she said, standing up and grabbing her handbag from the side of her chair. ‘While you’re here, I want you to wear these…’ and, rooting around in the bag, produced what looked like a pale pink chiffon handkerchief. She straightened them out and held them up so Carl could see it was some sort of underwear.
‘These are what I call pouch-panties,’ said Doreen, looking at them proudly.
‘But… aren’t they for ladies?’ asked Carl, looking at them in horror.
‘No, they’re for you,’ said Doreen. ‘When we’re home, this is all you are allowed to wear so that I can see your penis at all times, see whether you are excited and deal with that if I need to. Or see that you are excited and decide to leave you excited,’ she said with a smirk.
‘And I have to wear them all the time? Just those?’ said Carl, feeling almost panicky. Doreen nodded. ‘But what if someone comes to the door?’ continued Carl.
‘Then you will open the door wearing the pouch-panties,’ said Doreen, sounding a little like she was explaining something to a child. ‘Now, let’s put them on. Spread your legs a little.’
The panties came with ties at the side so rather than stepping into them, Carl had to stand while Doreen put them between his legs then reached round him to get the back half, which she tied to the front at his hips. As Carl’s cock was still as hard as it could be, about half of it reached out over the top of the pouch-panties while his newly smooth balls could be seen through the sheer fabric.
‘Now, doesn’t that look nice?’ said Doreen, more to herself than to Carl. Carl looked down. He felt ridiculous, embarrassed, shamed even. He didn’t answer.
‘Well, whether you like them or not, that’s what you’ll be wearing,’ said Doreen, a little more sternly, ‘so you’d better get used to them.’ And she took out her phone and snapped some pictures of Carl standing forlornly in the pouch-panties.
‘Now, let’s take them off for the time being because it’s already nearly lunchtime and I haven’t even milked you yet,’ said Doreen, untying the sides of the pouch-panties.
Doreen had been anticipating his arrival with the sort of sexual frenzy she hadn’t felt for years. She had been watching the video she had taken of Carl masturbating while touching herself almost every hour, had been remembering the touch of him, the feel of his cock as she made him cum, the taste of his sperm.
As she was chatting to his parents as they got ready to set off for a few weeks in South Africa, she felt a little guilty, reassuring them that Carl would be safe in her hands even as she planned a summer of using his body. Even as they were standing in the driveway of her home waving off Carl’s parents, she was sneaking peeks at the shape of his bottom in his grey sweatpants, at the bulge in the front, at his nipples visible through the cotton of his T-shirt, even at the shape of his feet in the white socks he had come out in. Carl had noticed this sneaking of peeks and it only served to make him more nervous. And a little excited, if he was honest with himself. There was something about being looked at…
Once his parents’ car had disappeared around the corner, he turned to Doreen, who said, cheerfully, ‘Right then, let’s get you in and settled’, and tapped him on the bottom. As they went through the front door, Doreen saw his bags at the bottom of the stairs and said, ‘Run those up, dear, then come straight back down.’ Carl did as he was told.
When he came back down, Doreen was in the sitting room in a chair waiting for him. ‘Now, Carl,’ she said, sounding stern, ‘before we start, there are a couple of house rules that I want you to take seriously. As a guest in my home, I’m sure you’ll appreciate that I like things done my way.’
Carl nodded, expecting something about keeping the kitchen tidy or not coming home after a certain time. Maybe something to do with operating the washing machine or not using the shower too much… but no. ‘The first rule of the house,’ started Doreen, ‘is that all your sperm belongs to me.’
Carl couldn’t believe what he had heard. He looked at this plump, elderly woman sitting looking at him, gave a bemused shake of his head and said, ‘Sorry, what was that?’
‘I said that the first rule of this household is that all your sperm belongs to me,’ she repeated as if it were the most natural demand in the world. ‘That means no masturbating unless I am present and I have given you permission. Most of the time, I will be milking you myself but I may sometimes allow you to masturbate for me. But I’ll let you know. Do I make myself clear?’
‘Erm, yes Miss,’ was all Carl could manage trying to get his head around the idea that from now on this frumpy old lady was going to be controlling his entire sexuality: when he touched himself, when he masturbated, everything.
‘And I will be deciding what you’re going to wear at all times,’ she continued, looking him up and down. ‘I have bought things especially, so you probably won’t need any of the clothes you’ve brought from home. Understood?’
‘Yes, Miss,’ said Carl, wondering what sort of clothes she had in mind. He hadn’t had anyone buy him clothes since he was a kid… except for the underwear that his mum was always coming home with.
‘Right, now let me have a look at you,’ said Doreen in an authoritative voice, folding her arms in readiness. ‘Take off your T-shirt.’ Carl felt he had no choice but to obey and pulled the T-shirt from the bottom hem over his head.
‘Beautiful,’ said Doreen, matter-of-factly, as if to herself. ‘You have lovely skin, dear.’
‘Thank you, Miss,’ said Carl, blushing at the bold way she was running her eyes over his torso.
‘Now the socks.’
He bent down and pulled off the white socks, which were grubby on the bottom from having been worn out to the driveway. ‘And lovely feet, Carl,’ she added. He’d never thought of anyone having lovely feet before so that felt strange. ‘Put one up here on the arm of my chair so I can see closer.’
He put his foot up next to her and she examined it, running her hands on it, separating the toes and, finally, leaning forward and kissing it. ‘Beautiful,’ she said. ‘And now the trackpants. But not the underwear,’ at which Carl pulled down his grey sweats, folded them and put them on another of the antique-look armchairs, then stood in front of Doreen in the stretchy colourful underpants his mum bought him, his hands covering his crotch. Doreen looked displeased.
‘Another rule is that you should never stand with your hands covering your crotch, Carl. Is that clear? Your hands should be by your sides at all times when you are in my presence or in the presence of any lady,’ said Doreen. ‘We deserve to see what you have in your trousers or underpants…’
‘Yes, Miss,’ said Carl as he watched her look him up and down, from his feet, up his legs, his torso, his face and then back to his bulge, which had, embarrassingly for him, started to grow with the attention she was giving him.
‘Turn around, dear,’ she said. He complied and sensed her standing up, then felt a hand on his buttocks. ‘Very nice, very nice,’ she said, smoothing her hands over both of them as Carl felt his cock getting properly hard. Then, returning to her chair, ‘now pull the back of the underpants down, Carl.’
He did as he was told and could feel her eyes on the untanned skin of his buttocks. ‘Now bend over and pull your cheeks apart,’ said Doreen. Carl couldn’t believe he was being asked to do this. It was like being at the doctor’s but obviously it wasn’t about his health. But he did as he was told, bent forward and taking a buttock in each hand pulled them apart.
‘Hmmm,’ said Doreen. ‘Yes, I think we’re going to have to do something about that. OK, stand up and turn round.’
Carl stood and turned and was facing Doreen with a hard on so prominent that it risked breaching the waistband of his underwear. He instinctively went to cover it with his hands but remembered the rule and put them down by his sides.
‘Well, that looks very promising,’ said Doreen, more to herself than to him as she looked from the cock straining in his underwear to his face, which was burning with shame. ‘Step forward, dear.’
He took a step towards her so that his bulge was just inches from her face. She studied it, noticed a darker patch where the young man was starting to leak precum, then put out her hand and felt first his balls, then lightly squeezed the base then let her hand run up the entire length of his penis, which was by now so hard it was standing out from his body, opening a gap in the waistband of his underwear. She took the opportunity to dip a finger in and steal a bead of precum. The contact of her finger was electric and made Carl’s cock twitch so he thought he might even cum.
‘Now take them off and hand them to me,’ said Doreen, at which he slid the underwear down and stepped out of it passing it to her. Now he was inches from this elderly neighbour, completely naked, red with embarrassment, his cock hard and just inches from her face while she examined and sniffed his warm underwear.
As she looked at him, Doreen couldn’t believe this boy’s beauty. His skin was perfect, his face so handsome and this body was muscular but not overly muscular. While his penis was large and straight and delicious to look at. She couldn’t believe she was about to have weeks with which to use it, humiliate it, play with it, share it, do whatever she wanted with it.
‘Now I want you to stand exactly where you are while I go and get some things,’ said Doreen, leaving Carl, his hands behind his back, his penis standing up against his belly. She returned within a couple of minutes with a bowl and a little bag with a drawstring, put them on the table by the side of her chair and sat back down.
‘Now, Carl, I want you to lay across my knees, face down,’ she said. This was getting a bit weird, thought Carl, but there was something about this woman’s voice that you just did what she said so he knelt beside her, leaned on her thighs with his belly and manoeuvred himself onto her lap. She had opened her legs a little so his hard cock was now rubbing the inside of her thigh against the nylon tights she was wearing. He prayed not to cum without permission.
With his head hung down beside her, more from shame than from anything else, Carl heard some sploshing coming from the bowl of water, then felt her push his thighs apart on her lap and then an oiled finger going through the hair up inside the crack of his bottom. There was something rather sweet about this late teenage hair, thought Doreen. Something almost sexy about it. But she knew it had to go.
The next thing Carl felt was the fingers of Doreen’s left hand pushing one buttock away then the drip of water on his backside and then the feel of metal as she began to shave his crack. After a few moments, she pulled the other buttock towards her and began shaving the other side.
‘Pull your cheeks apart for me, Carl,’ said Doreen. Carl reached around, trying not to knock Doreen with his elbows, grabbed each of his buttocks and pulled them apart. Then he felt a little scratching and heard the sploshing as Doreen finished the job of shaving his hole.
As for Doreen, with each clump of hair that came away from the crack of his bottom, a little more of that virgin flesh appeared until, with a little dabbing from a flannel, there was a completely hairless little hole, pink and perfect. She got some oil and rubbed it around the hole. She could hear little moans come from Carl and could feel his penis twitching against her leg, no doubt leaving snail trails of precum on her tights.
‘Now, Carl, I want you to sit on that armchair, the one I’ve put a towel on…’ He got up from her knees and walked to the armchair. ‘Now, scoot back and take your knees in your hands…’ Carl did as he was told – he would be doing as he was told for the next few weeks, he realised – and was soon on the edge of the armchair, holding his knees apart so Doreen had a full few of his hole, his underneath, his balls, everything. His penis, still hard, reached up past his belly button leaving streaks of precum almost to his chest.
Doreen picked up the bowl of water with the razor in it and knelt between his legs, her face inches from him. She dripped a couple of drops of an oil from a little bottle, while Carl looked at her, an expression of utter concentration on her wrinkled face, and then smoothed the oil along the area between Carl’s hole and his balls. Then, taking the razor she began to shave, dipping the razor into the water and then, holding the skin taught with one hand, ran the razor along the hardened ridge with the other.
When she was finished, she dabbed the area with the flannel, ran her fingers over it to check that it was smooth and smiled to herself. ‘Now the tricky bit,’ she said, looking up at him for the first time in a few minutes. ‘I’m going to need you to hold very still, Carl, or I might hurt you,’ she said.
She then smoothed some more of the oil over his fuzzy balls and, stretching the skin of his scrotum against one of them, brought the razor towards them and started to shave. The contact of her fingers on his balls was making his cock twitch with excitement but he was conscious of trying to keep as still as possible so she didn’t nick him. And she didn’t. In a few moments, with many dips of the razor in the water and some wipes of the flannel, she sat back on her heels and admired these newly shaved, beautifully pink balls that were hers for the next few weeks.
‘Lovely!’ she said. ‘Now, stand up, Carl.’ He did. His cock, hard and throbbing, was touching her face as she dipped the razor in the water again and, smoothing some of the oil on his belly, started to remove the ‘treasure trail’ that led from his navel to his pubic hair. When that was gone, she dipped again and started in on his pubic hair. Within minutes, he was completely smooth and Doreen was rubbing some lotion onto his belly and all around his cock and under his balls.
‘Now, we’re going to keep you like this the whole time you’re with me,’ she said, as if he didn’t have any say in the matter, which he realised he didn’t. ‘I will inspect you in the shower and we will get rid of any grow-back. And doesn’t it make your penis look bigger!’
Carl looked down. He’d always been more than happy with the size of his penis but he had to admit it did look even bigger. As they both looked at it, Carl from standing and Doreen from her knees in front of him, Carl could feel her breath on him and was desperate for her to take it in her mouth and suck it. There was nothing Doreen would have liked more but she didn’t want to frighten the lad and also she was saving up treats for herself. She was looking forward to having that most beautiful of cocks in her mouth but she was going to wait for it, make herself greedy for it.
‘Now, Carl,’ she said, standing up and grabbing her handbag from the side of her chair. ‘While you’re here, I want you to wear these…’ and, rooting around in the bag, produced what looked like a pale pink chiffon handkerchief. She straightened them out and held them up so Carl could see it was some sort of underwear.
‘These are what I call pouch-panties,’ said Doreen, looking at them proudly.
‘But… aren’t they for ladies?’ asked Carl, looking at them in horror.
‘No, they’re for you,’ said Doreen. ‘When we’re home, this is all you are allowed to wear so that I can see your penis at all times, see whether you are excited and deal with that if I need to. Or see that you are excited and decide to leave you excited,’ she said with a smirk.
‘And I have to wear them all the time? Just those?’ said Carl, feeling almost panicky. Doreen nodded. ‘But what if someone comes to the door?’ continued Carl.
‘Then you will open the door wearing the pouch-panties,’ said Doreen, sounding a little like she was explaining something to a child. ‘Now, let’s put them on. Spread your legs a little.’
The panties came with ties at the side so rather than stepping into them, Carl had to stand while Doreen put them between his legs then reached round him to get the back half, which she tied to the front at his hips. As Carl’s cock was still as hard as it could be, about half of it reached out over the top of the pouch-panties while his newly smooth balls could be seen through the sheer fabric.
‘Now, doesn’t that look nice?’ said Doreen, more to herself than to Carl. Carl looked down. He felt ridiculous, embarrassed, shamed even. He didn’t answer.
‘Well, whether you like them or not, that’s what you’ll be wearing,’ said Doreen, a little more sternly, ‘so you’d better get used to them.’ And she took out her phone and snapped some pictures of Carl standing forlornly in the pouch-panties.
‘Now, let’s take them off for the time being because it’s already nearly lunchtime and I haven’t even milked you yet,’ said Doreen, untying the sides of the pouch-panties.
