Some readers wonder at my fascination with Asian teenage boys. “Why not stick to cute wholesome all American teen meat?” they ask. Well the answers are many, but not in the least is the fact that the Japanese have an inherent submissive quality that makes them easy to control. They have a group mentality and devotion, are terrified of being humiliated and embarrassed, and are taught from childhood on to please anyone with authority and to follow instructions. Witness my recent experience with a boy on the train.
I actually cheated a bit and switched compartments when I saw the sensitive-looking, lean, black-haired, Japanese teenager sitting there with his face buried in a book, his knap sack next to him, looking oh so edible in his white school shirt, black necktie and grey shorts. His golden legs were muscular from playing soccer and he exuded fresh young innocence. Hence, 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 Japanese fashion before burying his face again in his manga, some sci-fi graphic novel with beautiful teen boys blowing each other to bits with all kinds of gruesome weapons.
My hopes, which were quickly turning into plans, were almost dashed when a longhaired, lanky Nordic traveler in his early twenties also piled into our compartment and unloaded a back pack the size of a small schoolhouse. I quickly asked the young man to join me in the hall for a moment where I informed him that I was the boy's English tutor and he was facing a really rough exam, and if I paid for the Nordic god's journey out of my own pocket, would he consider finding other accommodations. We very quickly settled the transaction and he moved out of sight and out of my life.
Now as the train pulled out of the station, I had this delicious, teenage boy all to myself. I sat across from him, watching him for about twenty minutes. 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 slight smile on my face. He took out a bottle of water and sucked on it, giving me a chance to see his nice full lips in action.
After a bit, I extended my right leg and rubbed it against his naked calf. I was in effect testing his submissiveness. His face became flushed, his black-lashed eyes flashed and he chewed his lower lip wondering, I know, whether it had been just an accident. I studied the way his strong young thighs disappeared into his grey shorts and the slight lump at his teen crotch. 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 knap sack. It was then that I tested him. I too rose and grabbing him roughly by the shoulders, I pushed him back down onto his seat. He sat there looking up at me in shock. His eyelids fluttered and his nostrils widened.
He was like a young colt. Fourteen, fifteen at the most, but Asians are small so he looked younger. His hair was styled in that long choppy style so popular with Asian pop stars and those who adore them. Chewing his lower lip and without saying anything, he looked at me.
I smiled at him and sat down again across from him. Then I proceeded to rub my leg against his calf again. In a throaty teen voice, he very quietly said something in Japanese. I don’t speak Japanese and he knew that at once. He shook his head back and forth, trying to tell me in gestures that he was not interested in anything gay.
I almost burst out laughing. His mouth drooped and his eyes looked worried. He grabbed his bag and rose again. This time I slammed him down a bit more roughly and looked him in the face while staring him down until he looked at the floor. He now looked like he wanted to cry, which was great. So fresh in his neat little uniform…so fuckable.
He brought his legs together and tried to move them away from me. I leaned forward in my seat, put my large hands on his naked knees and I pushed spreading his legs apart. He looked up at me in horror, one slender smooth young teen hand came down to my wrist to stop me and I slapped the hand away. I spread the boy’s legs wide apart so his teen crotch was clearly on display. I slapped his legs approvingly to show he should keep his legs spread like that...wide apart...wider than is comfortable or natural.
I sat back, picked up a newspaper and began to read. He sat there, stupid and scared stiff with his legs wide apart. Each time he tried to close his legs even a little, I would slap his naked thighs hard until a red hand print appeared on his bare leg then I would push his young legs apart, loving the look of his teen dick lump in the little gray school shorts.
He did not know what to do. It was so comical. Finally after a third time, he just sat there with legs spread, picked up his book and pretended to read again, although I knew his clever little mind was racing. After a bit, I casually extended a leg again and placed my foot up between his legs onto his seat cushion.
He looked at me in horror and his mouth made funny little Japanese sounds. I smiled, and in very bad Japanese said to him, "Nihongo o hanasu koto wa arimasen."
He shook his head and said in English, "No, I no want, no, please..." but I was reading my paper again, my foot lodged between his wide spread legs.
We sat that way for fifteen minutes as I finished the paper and were interrupted in our standoff by a rap at the door. The conductor arrived to collect the tickets. I saw a flash of hope flicker on the boy's face. I leaned in and placed a hand on his bare leg while Iput my foot back on the floor. From my pocket, I withdrew a knife, setting it on the seat next to me so the boy could look at it.
I saw his Adam’s apple bob up and down. It was so cute. Staring all the while at the floor, his young hand shook with fear as he gave his ticket to the conductor, but the conductor never even noticed.
I smiled and handed over my ticket and when the conductor left I quickly locked the compartment door from the inside and closed the blinds. I could hear the boys heavy breathing over the clack of the train wheels. I could almost smell his fear. I turned to see him looking at the knife on the seat across from him. I almost wanted him to go for it, but he was too submissive and too frightened to do anything.
I sat down across from him again and noticed that his legs had somewhat closed so I gently, but forcefully, reached out and spread them once again. This time he whimpered. Then I reached down and casually unlaced the boy’s shoes. This seemed to hurt him physically as he made a grunting sound, perhaps guessing what was coming. I pulled off the boy’s shoes and peeled down his long school socks. He exhaled with a whistle and I saw spit form at the corners of his mouth. He was really pissing scared. I now had him bare foot in the compartment. His beautiful, high-arched, wide feet and perfect toes…clean, strong and young.
I sat back and placed my foot between his legs on the seat again. This time I made sure my foot (I had removed my shoes Japanese style) rested against the lump of young, teen boy dick. He could not pull back any further in the seat and he had to keep his naked legs spread so he sat there whimpering in fear with his eyes begging me to please leave him alone. I saw tears form in his eyes as I nudged and worked his fuck lump with my toes.
We sat like that for about ten minutes...the time was torture to the boy. I'm sure it crawled for him, but it was all too short a 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, lifted his legs and scuttled into the corner of his seat. I reached down, grabbed him and sat him upright again. He was trembling badly now and I thought for one brief second he might piss his pants.
I set him back in his proper sitting position, spread his young legs wide again and ran the knife blade along the smooth flesh to remind him not to alter his position. Then I gently reached down, loosened his necktie and removed it. The sounds escaping from his tender mouth were wonderful whistles, squeaks, whines and moans. Once in a while, he spoke a Japanese word or in terrible English, in a plaintive attempt to beg me to stop. I set his necktie aside and then button by button undid his shirt. When his young hands reached up to stop me, I slapped them roughly away and for the first time stuck a warning finger in his face.
This really nailed him to the seat. Tears were running down his beautiful young cheeks now. I opened up his shirt to reveal a most beautiful, smooth, slender, but well-formed, teenage chest and stomach. His tummy was tight, his pecs just starting to show muscle development and he had the most stunning cone-shaped, pink, boy nipples I had seen in some time. Forcing him to sit with his legs spread and his shirt open with his chest and fluttering tummy on display, I sat down to study my prize. He did not know where to look so he studied the floor some more.
After a further ten minutes of agony for the boy, I stood up and quickly slid the shirt form his lithe body leaving his upper torso naked. I loved the small sprays of black pit hair just forming under his arms. His nipples grew hard and the titty buds stood out.
I folded his shirt and placed it on the seat next to me near his socks and shoes. Then I motioned for him to stand up. When he did not move, I reached out, grabbed a handful of his hair and pulled him to his feet. His body swaying with the movement of the train, the clack, clack of the wheels almost hypnotizing as he stood there before me on his strong, but weak and watery young, soccer player legs.
I studied his stomach and his attractive belly button. I leaned around to look at his nicely formed boy ass so lovely in the tight 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 face. After that he stood there taking my molestation and abuse. I felt his soft neck and his shoulders. I felt the wet armpits slick with the sweat of fear. I ran my hands down to his hips and eventually rest them on the button of his shorts.
He held his breath knowing what was coming and not able to bare the humiliation and degradation of it. Watching his face all the while, I opened his shorts. He looked so cute as snot bubbled from his nose. His eyes looked frantic like a trapped animal's eyes. I unzipped the shorts and tugged them down. He wore a small pair of blue, bikini underpants. Most Asians prefer very tiny 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 hung, just an average boy, his dick lying on an upward angle to the left in his tiny underpants with his nice full balls beneath.
His shorts lay puddled around his ankles. I bade him step 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, a strong, young ass from all those athletic games, 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 shorts and two well-rounded firm ass globes. I could see he would have a nice deep ass crack.
When I put my fingers on his dick lump, he did fall over right back onto his seat. He sat there like a drunk, looking up at me, naked except for his bikini underpants. I winked at him and kicked his legs apart. I stood between them, leaned down and started to flick his tits. He tried to squirm away, but of course, I made him sit still as I worked his young nipples into a bursting ripe state.
Then I kneeled down on the seat between his legs, took his smooth beautiful face in my hands and kissed him on the mouth. He tried to resist at first, but I forced his mouth open with my tongue and was soon frenching him, savoring his teeth, gums and tongue with my tongue while slopping my spit into his oral cavity making sure it was the wettest, longest kiss of his young life.
Then I tilted his head back and held his handsome young mouth open. I pulled back just a bit and gobbed wads of spit into his open mouth. I saw his mouth fill with my spit. I saw him look frantically from side to side. I heard him choke as if he were about to puke.
I forced his mouth closed and held his nose making him swallow the lake of spittle I had deposited in his mouth. I did this three times until he was able to hold his mouth open and show me the pool of spit without gagging. It was so cute how his legs and feet were all over the place when had to swallow the spit. His toes curled and his body jumped as if it were under electric shock treatment.
His hair was a fine mess now. He sat there on the seat bare-assed except for those sexy, tiny, blue underpants with his legs spread, his chest heaving, his mouth slack and his eyes red and watery.
I stood right in front of him, inches from his face, and I rubbed the hard lump in my pants. At this point, he knew for sure what he was going to get and he tried to bolt again for the door. He was hysterical and did not even care that he was almost naked.
I grabbed him, shook him like a rag doll as I removed his bikini underpants. Then I slapped him hard across his smooth face four times. His lower lip looked thick and slack and out of control. His eyes were wild. I roughly sat the bare-assed down. He sat there shaking, not with cold but with fear.
I stood there between his legs and played with my dick in my pants again. To break a boy, you have to be adept at noticing certain signs. You have to know when to push forward, when to hold, when to threaten and when to ease back. Why did he not scream for help? Because he knew that anyone entering the car would see him...see his shame...see his degradation. He could not reveal his circumstance to anyone.
I placed a hand behind his head and drew his face into my crotch. He whimpered as I pressed his nose and mouth against my huge, hard, dick lump in my jeans. Could he smell my prick through the denim material...hungry...anxious...drooling to be unleashed? I made certain his face felt the outline of my fucktool. Then I pulled back quickly and sat down and took and apple from my bag and slowly ate it.
He looked at me, not believing the circumstance he found himself in his mouth open...body slick with sweat...hair plastered to his forehead...his chest heaving...titties hard and pink...tummy fluttering...legs spread...feet bent…toes curled.
I ate the apple and studied his sleek, coltish, young body. This was going to be very, very good. This boy, whose name I did not know, whose language I did not speak. This healthy, normal, athletic, teenage boy was about to be fucked in the ass…was about to have a hard dick shoved up between his young ass globes, into his tight, virginal rectum, an act from which he would never recover, an emotional and mental wound that would never heal. He was about to be fucked like a girl...like a twat. He was about to be used like a cunt. He knew it. I could see in his eyes that he knew it and there was not a fucking thing he could do about it.