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This work is copyrighted to the author © 2011.  Please
don't remove the author information or make any changes
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Beauty of Frustration
by Phil Phantom (pp@philphantom.com)

***

Christen, fourteen, virgin, never been kissed sexually, 
had a gentlemen friend, a bachelor who lived alone in a 
studio loft. Her mother knew and approved because 
Harland Sweetwater was a sweet and gentle man, a good 
influence on Christen, who needed a male mentor who was 
also a painter, sculptor, photographer, poet, and 
general all-around interesting, cultured, and well-
traveled man. (M/f-teen, ped, 1st, rom)

***

Christen absolutely adored the man she called Har. After 
two weeks, she found the man she wanted to give her 
cherries too, all three of them, no question, no 
reservation. Har soon realized that fact. A bitch in 
heat is a bit more subtle.

One day, he set his brushes aside and looked her over as 
a man might look over a woman - or horse he were 
considering adding to his stable. That made her blush. 
Har never did that. He asked her to stand before him and 
turn slowly. She stood and turned slowly, feeling his 
eyes on her bare legs. When she again stood facing him, 
she appeared flushed and said, "See something you like?"

"Christen, do you trust me? I mean, really, really trust 
me?"

"Yes. I really, really, really do trust you, Har."

"Enough to take your clothes off - every stitch?"

"YES!"

"Please do."

She did, like a stripper do... sorta. She removed her 
clothes teasingly - no music - no bumps - no grinds, but 
she didn't simply take off clothing items. She removed 
them for one man and showed that one man what she had 
not been doing a very good job of hiding fully dressed. 
Panties were not among the clothing items that needed to 
be removed, nor was there a bra, slip, panty hose, 
shoes, or socks. She enjoyed padding about his warm loft 
barefoot. Fact is, she pulled off the pull-over dress, 
but slowly.

***

Nude, she again stood before him, only now she seemed a 
bit unsure, a bit shy with her hands held to cover her 
pussy. He got to see her cute little "quim," but she 
didn't want him to stare at her "quim" - cunt neither. 
She wasn't ready for that. Pussy was okay, but no way 
would she spread her legs and let him gawk at her cunt, 
quim, cunny, or other funny Olde English term for the 
part females breed and bleed through - fuck that shit!

Har looked her over and had her do another turn, which 
made her cottontail funny fanny blush. When she came 
back around, she had a blushing chest with erect 
nipples, the button type on a set of firm twin A's' - 
his AA Energizer Bitch Bunny, batteries not included - 
cute kid.

Har said, "Do you trust me enough to tie your hands 
behind your back?"

She swallowed hard then said in a rather mousy, unsure 
voice, conveying all the confidence that mice have in 
cats, "yes."

Har had her face away and put her arms behind her back. 
He found some cotton sash cord and bound the wrists and 
the elbows. He picked up a 35mm camera and had her turn 
around. When she saw the camera being trained on her 
defenseless crotch, she felt very vulnerable and naked. 
She looked cold as he surveyed her through the view 
finder, then brought the camera down to say, "Don't you 
trust me?"

"Well, yes."

"Could you try to show that you trust me and demonstrate 
that you are not worried about me safeguarding any 
pictures I may take?"

She gulped and stood straight, forced herself to relax 
and not crouch as he viewed her crotch and made the 
camera flash. He took several, then had her turn 
profile, then back to him, then leaning forward - flash 
- step out - flash - step wider, far forward, now, head 
resting on the floor, step wider, wider - flash - flash 
- flash.

Posing got a little easier, but then he knelt at her ass 
to look down on her face to say, "Christen, do you know 
what a beaver is?"

"Uh...one of these right-side-up?"

"I'd like to see a good one, on the coffee table - 
assuming you trust me."

"A beaver, huh. Do you mean a wide beaver?"

"I'd like a good beaver, yes."

"You want pictures of my wide beaver?"

"A few."

She gulped, looked at the coffee table, looked up to 
Har, then to the camera zooming on her asshole, then 
went to her knees and made her way over, and with Har's 
assistance, she reclined on her back as he got in 
position to capture a good beaver on his knees, which 
was also a great position to fuck her in since he had 
his long, thick, hard cock out.

She had to remind herself that fucking was what she 
wanted. She just pictured it differently. She pictured 
lovemaking in a bed under covers. She never pictured 
pictures of good beavers and butt holes, but she made a 
good beaver, and holding it through many flashes killed 
her, but she held the widest she could hold until she 
noticed him with a hard dick in his hand, nosing her in 
the beaver.

His dick was much bigger than she thought it might be, 
and had far less condom on it than she was sure it would 
- none in fact - raw cock nosing her in the trusting 
quim while bound and helpless. Christen felt stupid and 
she felt fucked.

Har saw her deep concern etched in worry lines, stood, 
put himself away, helped her up, untied her, handed her 
the camera, and said, "Open it up and expose the film."

She didn't need to be told twice. With the film exposed, 
she set the camera down and looked to Har, now perched 
back on his painting stool, smiling like a cat who was 
through toying with the mouse but wasn't hungry. She 
said, "Why did you do that?"

"To show you that you can trust some men, but you can 
never trust you, and some who could otherwise be trusted 
can turn untrustworthy if a lovely thing like you can't 
control herself. Christen, you dodged a bullet, kid. I'm 
one of the few who could go that far and pull back, and 
sweetheart, that was not easy. You are a very lovely, 
very sexy young lady, and far too trusting I might add."

Christen plopped her sexy young lady ass down in a chair 
and did not sit like a lady as she said, "I am also a 
very horny young lady, Har, in case you haven't 
noticed."

"I understand that, Christen. Believe me. I do notice 
those things."

"I know you do and you get hard. Why won't you fuck me? 
Do I have to beg?"

"You have been. I'm sorry, Christen, but I don't fuck 
children. You need to learn that you don't get to fuck 
anyone you want to fuck."

Christen looked away in frustration, then back to say, 
"If you are worried about my mom, she wouldn't care. In 
fact, she thinks we are. All she wanted to know was were 
we using protection. I assured her we were. She figured 
we were. She's happy for me. I could spend the night 
with you, Har. I could spend all weekend with you - all 
week. She trusts you absolutely. She doesn't even ask 
what we do. For all she knows, you are the biggest 
pervert in the state, into child porn, selling child 
pussy, all sorts of kinky shit."

"That's interesting. How does that make you feel?"

"Here we go with the feelings again. It makes me feel 
fucking horny, Har. I have a license to do anything, and 
I'm not doing a fucking thing except doing me to the 
point of boredom. I am so tired of fucking me, and I am 
so easy, I have no respect for myself in the morning, 
noon, afternoon, night. I tried the doggie biscuit 
between the shoulder blades to get a dog to mount me, 
but they just come up, lick my face, eat my biscuit, and 
lift their leg on me. I keep going from bad to worse - 
now this - rejected by my own kind who wants to know how 
I feel. I feel horny, Har, very horny with no self 
esteem or will to live. Other than that, I feel fine. 
How do you feel?"

"Sounds more like frustration than horny."

Christen hung her legs over the arms of the chair, 
scooted her butt to the forward edge, and presented him 
with another good beaver in a sitting sprawl position as 
she said, "Look at this pussy, Har. This is good, tight, 
virgin pussy going to waste. That in itself is a crying 
shame, but this wasted pussy is between my fucking legs 
twenty-four/seven. Am I frustrated? Yes, I'm frustrated, 
and so are you. Tough shit. I'm not putting it away. If 
you won't fuck it, you're gonna look at it."

"Sweetheart, I am not complaining, and I will never ask 
you to get dressed and put that beautiful beaver away. I 
am into things of rare beauty. Even your sexual 
frustration is a thing of rare beauty. Any girl as 
beautiful and as sexy as your are should never go 
wanting for sex, yet here your are, aching - beautiful, 
absolutely beautiful. Open the lips and show me how much 
you ache, but don't masturbate. I forbid you to 
masturbate. I know you want to. Don't you dare spoil the 
beauty. Open the lips, Christen, open the lips."

Christen pulled open the lips and cried, "You fucker! Oh 
you sadistic bastard!"

Putting up a new canvas, he said, "Hold that pose. I 
must capture this. Christen, oh baby, you weep in the 
slit. Oh you, gorgeous doll. Weep for me my unused 
Lolita!"

"Har, don't do this to me. This isn't funny."

"Learn to suffer the sweet agony of sacrifice."

"Fuck sacrifice. I need to get laid."

"Beautiful! Absolutely fucking beautiful. That aching 
fuck hole of yours is the core of your beauty right now, 
my sweet petite with dainty feet."

"That fuck hole ain't a fuck hole until someone with a 
dick fucks it. Right now, it's just a fucking hole 
between a virgin's legs. This fucking hole is killing 
me, and I ain't your sweet petite with dainty feet. I'm 
your filthy bitch with dirty knees and a wet ass and two 
suffering wannabe fuck holes between her hind legs."

"Suffer bitch! Oh, this is marvelous...simply fucking 
marvelous...and your mother thinks we're fucking. That's 
fucking beautiful, too."

"What's so beautiful about that?"

"A mother of a child your age should not want that, not 
with a man my age. I think that's bizarre and bizarre is 
beautiful."

"I fail to see the bizarre. She wants me to be happy. 
She thinks fucking a man I care a great deal about, a 
man with a big dick, will put a permanent smile on my 
face. Silly me, I thought so, too."

"Did you actually discuss fucking or did you allude to 
the act?"

"We don't allude shit, whatever that means. We talk 
about fucking. We talk about sticking hard cocks in 
cunts and fucking them."

"Am I a good fuck?"

"She thinks you are."

"Was she interested in the size of my cock?"

"Yes, but I misled her. I didn't think you were that 
big. I thought you were only hung."

"You had to know I was big. You've seen my desire for 
you."

"Not out of your pants and poking me in the pussy. Those 
things look much bigger when they are poking you in the 
virgin pussy."

"Do I make you cum?"

"Ten times a fuck."

"I'm very good."

"She was impressed. She doesn't cum easy, sometimes not 
at all - bummer."

"Too often the case. The female orgasm in an illusive 
beast who must be corned and battered into submission."

"Yeah, well she has a fleet-footed little fucker that 
gets away most of the time. She could help trap the 
little critter, but she can't bring herself to 
masturbate while having sex with a man - too self-
conscious. I tell her she's nuts. I figure a guy would 
get off on that. What do you figure?"

"You're asking the wrong guy. I like watching them 
suffer. I love watching a woman's frustration while I'm 
having my orgasm, then I pull out and love watching her 
cry."

"You don't get a lot of repeat business, do you?"

"Unfortunately, no. Most women hate my kind of sex. We 
tend to be loners."

"I'm beginning to hate your kind of sex. Look, I'm 
drying out. Can I at least get me juicy again? The pink 
parts in pussy aren't supposed to get this much air 
time."

"I'll use my dick. That should kill you."

"Damn, Har, you are a cruel bastard, aren't you?"

As he knelt with weeping dick in hand, he said while 
applying the slippery stuff to pink membranes, "I don't 
mean to be, but I am trying to capture the beauty of 
frustration. Once I capture that, you can masturbate."

"God, this feels and looks great, Har. I wish you'd cram 
that whole cock up my cunt."

"What, without a condom?"

"Right now, I don't care."

"What would Mommy say?"

"She never said I had to use protection. She just wanted 
to know if we did. I told her we did because I wanted 
her to think you were a responsible man, but as it turns 
out, she doesn't care. She doesn't care what kind you 
are, so long as you are fucking the shit out of me."

"You have a kinky mommy."

"Tell me about it, and getting kinkier all the time."

"How so?"

"Like not having to go home or even call home to say I 
won't be home. She wanted me to tell you that. She 
doesn't want you to feel the need to ask or even tell 
her how long you plan to keep me. She wanted me to make 
sure you understood. She wants to wait without knowing, 
and you are killing me, you pathetic, loner, poet, 
painter person."

He stood and said, "That should hold you for a while."

"You almost made me cum, you know."

After getting back on his perch, he said, "Damnit, 
Christen, you should have said something. This is 
serious work."

"Sorry, but I need to cum. This isn't fun."

"I'm not trying to capture fun. I am trying to capture 
the beauty of sexual frustration. I take my work 
seriously. I expect you to."

"You expect a lot."

"I'm not holding you here. You come and go as you 
please, but if you stay, you stay on my terms. On my 
terms, I decide when you get sexual relief. I said you 
could masturbate - when I say. I did not say you could 
cum. If you cum without first obtaining permission, I 
will send you home and bar you for one week. Is that 
understood?"

"Yes."

He did some painting, then said, "You know, I think we 
are beginning to understand each other. Few women ever 
do. The few who do refuse to accept it. You catch on 
quick and accept it. I'm very impressed with you, 
Christen, and you do suffer so beautifully for me. I do 
appreciate that. I see your pain. I am capturing that."

"I'm glad my pain and suffering isn't going to waste."

"Not at all....Your mother intrigues me. Bizarre people 
intrigue me. She is rather bizarre. Do you see her that 
way?"

"She is different, but I don't see bizarre. This latest 
thing is a bit kinky, but not too. She trusts you in 
that she sees no harm coming to me by giving you a 
totally free hand. I think it's mostly that she wants 
you to fuck me as much as you want, and that's something 
I want. We both want it, so she took a chance. She knows 
where I am. It's not like you are likely to take me 
anywhere and share me with a bunch of dirty old men. You 
never go anywhere and don't know any."

"I do. I could. Suppose I did. Have you talked about 
that?"

"Yes. She swears she won't withdraw the offer under any 
circumstances."

"Do you believe that?"

"Who knows, but I believe she wants the risk. I know she 
wanted me to make sure that you understood that totally 
free meant totally free with no strings attached."

"You just defined bizarre."

"I did if the worst happens and she sticks to it."

"What's the worst?"

"Who knows, but she'll never see me again. The worst for 
her will be never knowing and having to imagine."

"Your mother is dangerous, Christen. She is bizarre, but 
another word for that type of bizarre is sick. If she 
keeps this up, sooner or later, you'll end up with the 
wrong guy and wind up in the hands of the wrong people. 
There are some sick motherfuckers out there, just 
praying for an offer like that. 

"You can trust some men, but you can never trust you, 
sweetheart. One day, you'll find yourself bound on a 
carving table surrounded by ghouls with sharp knives, 
snips, and pliers, and they are not closing it to clip 
your nails or film your beaver. Snuff is big business. 
Little cuties like you are snuff bait. Mothers like your 
mother put the bait on the hook and go trolling."

"Okay, so what do I do about it?"

"You confront her and discuss this. If she won't get 
help, get out of there."

"She won't and I can't leave her."

"It's your ass."

"To be perfectly honest, this isn't much better. Both 
are forms of torture. At least snuff has an ending."

"Is it that bad? Honestly, is this torture?"

"Yes."

"Then why don't you put your legs down, put your clothes 
on, go home and masturbate?"

"For one, Mom will know I have been lying to her. This 
has been a major thrill for her. She lives for my fuck 
stories. I tell a great fuck story. I can imagine great 
sex. She'd be crushed."

"I've captured your frustration, but I'm not into 
torture. I am going to fuck you, Christen, fuck you and 
cum in your fertile and unprotected pussy. I think I'll 
keep you and share you with a few safe child molesters 
who are into photography and knocking up little girls. 
I'll let you go home from time to time so that mommy can 
know what life is like for a sex slave."

By this time, he was on his knees with the head of his 
cock pushed inside the lips, hands firmly on her hips, 
ready to take the plunge as he said, "How would that 
life suit you?"

"Suits me just fine, and suits my mom even better. She 
doesn't want me snuffed. I'm sure of that, but she'd 
love it if I ended up being passed around by a bunch of 
child molesters. I know she was hoping you'd want a sex 
slave. I know she is hoping you will accept me as a gift 
and keep me, but she also wants to know what you are 
doing to me. She'd like to hear it from me."

"Well, tell her about this."

With that, he sealed the deal, inch by inch while she 
watched and grimaced in ecstasy until he came in ecstasy 
and left her frustrated, holding her hands to keep her 
from masturbating...but then he let go and fucked hell 
out of her real quick. He wasn't such a bad sort after 
all, just bizarre.

The End

Read other stories by the same author by visiting 
Phantom Base at HTTP://PhilPhantom.Com

CAUTION: Exercise caution and good sense before engaging 
in unsafe sex practices that involve any exchange of 
body fluid, even contact with open sores or small cuts. 
Scenes involving large objects, tattoos, bestial sex, 
body waste ingestion, bindings, devices and gadgets are 
the stuff of fantasy and are offered to promote the only 
safe sex there is - masturbation. Before you try 
anything, find out what the risks and hazards are 
because they can all be deadly. Read, enjoy, and 
remember - sex with minors should be left to other 
minors. PP

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The author does not condone child abuse, this story is 
meant as an erotic fantasy not depicting anything in 
real life. Anyone acting out such scenarios in "real 
life" can look forward to many unproductive years 
getting it up the butt by a fellow convict in their 
local prison system.
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Kristen's collection - Directory 70