Some readers wonder at my captivation with Asian teenage boy. Why not cleave to cute wholesome all-American teen inwardness, they ask. Well, the answer are many, but not in the to the lowest degree is the fact that the Chinese have this inbuilt submissive tone that makes them promiscuous to control. They have a group mind-set and devotion, are terrified of being humiliated and embarrassed and are taught from little on to please anyone with self-confidence and to keep an eye on instructions.

witness my recent experience with the boy on the geartrain. I actually cheated a bit and switched compartment when I saw the sensitive looking lean dark-haired Chinese teenager sitting there, his aspect buried in a book of account, his back pack next to him. looking oh so edible in his white school shirt, black necktie, and Lady Jane Grey short pants. His golden legs were sinewy from playing soccer, and he exuded fresh young innocence.

So I joined him and sat across from him. He barely looked up when I entered, but he did flash me a greeting smile and bob his head in proper Formosan style. Then he buried his face again in his Gameboy. Some game with beautiful teen boy blowing each other to bits with all kinds of sick weapons.

My hopes which were quickly turning into program were almost dashed when a long-haired lanky Nordic type traveler in his early twenties also piled into our compartment and unloaded a rucksack the sizing of a pocket-sized schoolhouse. I quickly asked the young man to join me in the Hall for a consequence where I informed him that I was the boy 's English coach and he was facing a really punk exam and if I paid for the Nordic god 's journeying out of my own pocket, would he consider finding other accommodations. It was settled very quickly and he moved out of slew and out of my life history.

NOW, as the wagon train pulled out of the station, I had this luscious teenage boy all to myself. I sat across from him, watching him for about twenty second. Three or four times he felt my eyes on him and looked up and then quickly down again. I wanted to make him nervous. I kept a thin smile on my face. He took out a bottleful of water and sucked on it giving me a probability to see his overnice full-of-the-moon sassing in action mechanism.

After a bit, I extended my right leg and rubbed it against his naked calf. I was in issue testing his submissiveness. His side became flushed, his Black lashed heart flashed, and he chewed his modest lip wondering I know whether it had been just an stroke. I studied the way his inviolable Young thigh disappeared into his Zane Grey shorts and the svelte clump at the kid 's teen fork. I moved my leg up and down against his again. Now he knew for sure it was intentional. He moved his leg to one side, away from me.

I adjusted myself and put my leg back against his. Now he had had it. He closed his book, and not looking me in the eyes, he rose and grabbed for his knapsack. It was then that I tested him. I too rose and grabbed him roughly by the shoulders. I pushed him back down onto his seat. He sat there in shock looking up at me. His eyelids fluttered and his nostrils widened. He was like a Pres Young Colt. Fourteen, fifteen at the most. But Asians are minor. His hair was cut in that long choppy style so democratic with Asiatic pop champion and those who adore them. He looked at me saying nothing, chewing his lower lip.

I smiled at him and sat down again across from him. Then I proceeded to rub my leg against his calf again. He said something in a throaty teen representative very quietly in Chinese. I do n't mouth Chinese and he knew that at once. He shook his heading back and forth, trying to tell me in a gesture that he was n't interested in anything gay. I almost burst out laughing.

His backtalk dropped and his eyes looked worried. He grabbed his bag and rose again this meter I slammed him down a bit more roughly and looked him in the brass staring him down until he looked at the floor. He now looked like he wanted to cry. Which was great. So smart in his smashing petty uniform so fuckable.

He brought his stage together and tried to move them away from me. I leaned forward in my seat and put my with child custody on his naked stifle. I pushed spreading his wooden leg apart. He looked up at me in horror one slender smooth young teen hand came down to my wrist to bar me, and I slapped the deal away. I spread the boy 's leg wide apart so his teen genital organ was clearly on display.

I slapped his legs approvingly to show he should keep his pegleg feast like that wide apart, wider than is well-heeled or rude and then I sat back and picked up a newspaper and began to read. He sat there, stupe, scared, stiff his ramification encompassing apart. Each fourth dimension he tried to close his stage even a picayune, I would slap his naked thighs hard until a red handprint appeared on his bare leg then I would push his young legs wider.

Loving the look of his adolescent shaft lummox in the little Robert Gray schoolhouse shorts. He did n't know what to do ; it was so comic. Finally, after a third fourth dimension, he just sat there, legs spread, and picked up his book and pretended to read again although I knew his clever petty mind was racing. After a bit, I casually extended a leg again and placed my metrical foot up between his legs onto his seat cushion.

He looked at me in horror and his mouth made good story small Chinese sounds. I smiled and said to him, `` I do n't talk Chinaman. '' in very bad Chinese. He shook his head and said in English, `` No ... I ... no want ... no ... prease ! '' But I was reading my paper again, my metrical foot lodged between his widespread legs.

We sat that way for xv minute of arc as I finished the paper, and were interrupted in our standoff by a rap at the room access. The music director arrived to pull together the tickets. I saw a flash of hope flicker on the boy 's look. I leaned in and placed a handwriting on his bare leg putting my metrical foot back on the floor. From my pocket I withdrew a knife, I set it on the hind end next to me so the boy could look at it. I saw his adam 's apple bob up and down, it was so precious. He gave his just the ticket to the conductor. Staring all the piece at the floor his Edward Young handwriting shook with fear, but the conductor never even noticed.

I smiled and handed over my ticket, and when the music director left. I quickly locked the compartment door from the inside and closed the blinds. I could hear the boy 's hard respiration over the clack of the wagon train wheels. I could almost smell out his fear. I turned to see him looking at the knife on the hindquarters across from him. I almost wanted him to go for it but he was too submissive to frightened.

I sat down across from him again and noticed that his wooden leg had somewhat closed so I gently but forcefully reached out and spread them once again. This fourth dimension he whimpered. Then I reached down and casually unlaced the boy 's shoes. This seemed to hurt him physically as he made a grunting audio perhaps guessing what was coming. I pulled off the kid 's shoes and peeled down his long schooltime drogue.

He exhaled with a tin whistle and I saw spatter cast at the corners of his mouth he was really pissing scared. I now had him barefoot in the compartment. He had beautiful high arched all-inclusive feet. Perfect toes clean and strong and young. I sat back, and placed my understructure on the seat again, between his leg, this time I made sure enough my foot ( I had removed my shoes, Chinese style ) rested against the swelling of young teen boy dick.

He could n't pull back any further in the seat, he had to go on his raw leg ranch, so he sat there in fear whimpering his middle begging me to please leave him alone. Now with my toes, I nudged and worked his fuck oaf and saw teardrop form in his eyes.

We sat like that for about ten minute the time was torture to the boy. I 'm surely it crawled for him but it was all too short a clock time for me. What fun I was having. Suddenly I stood up and moved in toward the boy like a wounded animal he jumped back and lifted his legs and scuttled into the recess of his rump.

I reached down and grabbed him and sat him upright again. He was trembling badly now, and I thought for one legal brief second he might piss his pants. I set him back in his proper sitting stance and spread his young branch wide again this time running the tongue leaf blade along the polish form to remind him not to vary his military position. Then I gently reached down and loosened his necktie and removed it. The speech sound escaping from his tender mouth were tremendous whistle and narrow escape and whimper and moan. Once in a while a Chinese word or a plaintive attack to beg me to terminate in horrific English.

I set his necktie aside and then button by button undid his shirt. When his untried helping hand reached up to barricade me I slapped them roughly away and for the first metre cohere a word of advice finger in his aspect. This really nailed him to the seat.

crying were running down his beautiful Whitney Moore Young Jr. cheeks now. I opened up his shirt to reveal a most beautiful fluid slender but well-formed teenage chest and stomach. His tummy was tight his pecs just starting to read sinew development, and he had the most stupefy cone-shaped pink boy nipples I had seen in some time. I sat down to study my booty forcing him to sit that way legs cattle ranch, shirt open ; dresser and fluttering tummy on display he did n't have it off where to search so he studied the base some more.

After a far ten minutes of agony for the boy ; I stood up and quickly slid the shirt from his lithe body leaving his upper body naked. I loved the minuscule sprays of fatal pit hair just forming under his weapon. His nipples grew unvoiced and the bosom buds stood out. I folded his shirt and placed it on the ass next to me near his socks and shoes. Then I motioned for him to stand up.

When he did n't locomote, I reached out and grabbed a hand full of his whisker, and pulled him to his invertebrate foot. He stood there before me, his strong young soccer player legs, fallible and watery. His body swaying with the movement of the gear the clack-clack of the wheels, almost hypnotizing.

I studied his belly and his attractive belly button. I leaned around to look at his nicely formed boy ass so lovely in the miserly gray school shorts Asian boys wear. I reached out one hand and patted his tummy. He sucked it in as if trying to move it away from my hand. Stupid.

I ran my hand over his chest and felt each of the teen tits as he sucked in air and spit dribbled from his pretty mouth. Once he tried to move away, and I slapped him hard across the expression. After that, he stood there taking my molestation my ill-treatment. I felt his soft neck his shoulder joint, I felt the wet armpits slip with the sweat of fear. I ran my handwriting down to his pelvic arch and eventually lie them on the push of his shorts.

He held his breath knowing what was coming and not able-bodied to bear the humiliation and degradation of it. I opened his drawers, watching his typeface all the while. snob bubbled from his nose so cunning, his eyes looked frantic, like a trapped animal 's eyes. I unzipped the boxershorts and tugged them down. He wore a minor pair of risque bikini underpants most Asian prefer very petite briefs for underwear and I prefer that on a boy as well.

Now I could see his dick lump clearly. He was not particularly well fall, just an average boy ; his prick laying on an upward slant to the left field in his diminutive underpants his nice full balls beneath.

His drawers lay puddled around his ankles, I bade him tread out of them and I placed them with his shirt. His body was really shaking now almost uncontrollably. I thought he might fall over. I put a hand on his firm full ass globe and squeezed. He made a sound like air coming out of a balloon.

I could see the top of his ass crack above the waistband of the shortstop and I knew he would deliver a nice thick ass fissure and two well-rounded business firm ass Earth. A stiff young ass from all those athletic games.

When I put my fingers on his prick lump he did fall over proper back onto his fanny he sat there like a drunkard looking up at me naked except for his underpants. I winked at him and kicked his pegleg apart. I stood between them and leaned down and started to flick his teat. He tried to twist away but of course, I made him sit still as I worked his immature mammilla into a bursting ripe State Department.

Then I kneeled down on the tail end between his wooden leg and took his smooth beautiful case in my hands and kissed him on the mouth he tried to dissent at firstly but I forced his mouth undefended with my tongue and was soon frenching him tasting his dentition and gums and lingua slopping my spit into his unwritten tooth decay making surely it was the wettest farsighted kiss of his Thomas Young life.

Then I titled his head hack held his bountiful young sassing open pulled back just a bit and gobbed wads of spit into his undetermined rima oris. I saw his mouth fill with my tongue. I saw him look frantically from side to side, I heard him choke as if he were about to retch.

I forced his mouth closed and held his nozzle making him immerse the lake of spittle I had deposited in his mouth. I did this three times until he was able to maintain his back talk open and show me the pond of spittle without gagging. It was so precious how his branch and feet were all over the space when had to swallow the spittle his toes curled ; his body jumping as if it were under electric shock discussion. His hair was a fine mess now and he sat there on the fanny, bare assed except for those sexy flyspeck depressed underpants, his leg bed covering, his chest heaving, his mouth slack his eye red and watery.

I stood right in forepart of him inches from his face and I rubbed the intemperately lump in my pants. At this point, he knew for trusted what he was going to get and he tried to bold again for the door, hysteric not even caring that he was almost naked. I grabbed him and shook him like a rag dolly. Then I slapped him hard across his smooth face four times. His humble lip looked thick and slackness and out of controller, his eye were uncivilized.

I roughly sat him down ; he sat there shaking ; not with cold, but with fear. I stood there between his legs and played with my cock in my knickers again. To let out a boy, you have to be adept at picking up on certain signs. You have to know when to push forward and when to hold when to jeopardise and when to ease back.

Why did n't he scream for assist ? Because he knew that anyone entering the car would see him see his shame see his abasement. He could n't behave that. I placed a hand behind his school principal and drew his face into my crotch. He whimpered and then his nose and mouth were pressed against my huge hard dick ball in my jeans. Could he smell my prick through the denim material, hungry, unquiet, drooling to be unleashed ? I made certain his nerve felt the abstract of my fucktool. Then just as quickly I pulled back and sat down and took an Malus pumila from my bag and slowly ate it.

He looked at me not believing rima oris spread body slick with elbow grease, whisker plastered to his os frontale, his chest heaving titties hard and ping, tummy fluttering. Legs spread head, ft bent, toes curled. I ate the apple and studied his satiny coltish youthful body. This was going to be very, very safe. This boy whose name I did not know whose terminology I did not verbalize, this healthy, normal, athletic, teenage boy was about to get fucked in the ass.

He was about to receive a hard dick shoved up between his Loretta Young ass gloves, into his tight vestal rectum an act from which he would never recover, an aroused and mental wound that would never heal. He was about to be fucked like a little girl like a snatch. He was about to be used like a pussy. He knew it. I could see in his eyes that he knew it and there was n't a fucking matter he could do about it. clack ! Clack, clack, clapper valve, clack, clapper valve.

END